


Bittersweet

by Akiko_chaan



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Candyshop AU, Fluff, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, Smut, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-09-24 23:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17109821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_chaan/pseuds/Akiko_chaan
Summary: "What do you want?" Jinyoung whispers."To see you smile." Yugyeom is breathless. "When my heart started adding 'because of me', I don't know."Or:Yugyeom works in a candy shop. Jinyoung's a business man. How were they supposed to know they'd turn each other's life around?





	1. A Day In December

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my lovelies!
> 
> I want to thank my precious little bean Juli for getting me deeper into this fandom. The moment I start writing for a fandom is the moment you know I'll never get out again, so you succeeded in your mission, haha <3  
> Pepigyeom has got me screaming and squealing and the plotting of this story went so easy I was surprised by myself. There are a lot more things hiding under the surface than you might think at the beginning, though.
> 
> This is a birthday present and might also count as a bit of a Christmas present with the time being - I love you to the moon and back, my lovely Juli, and I hope you like this story (and won't murder me for hurting your babies). <3
> 
> For now, please enjoy the first chapter!
> 
> Love,  
> Aki

The time they first meet marks the beginning of December.

 

There is a twelve in the middle of the date now, between two dots and underlined with a small black marker. The weather every year seems to magically decide to get just around five degrees colder in time with November making a disappearance. It suddenly gets dark before you’ve really quite woken up, and everywhere you go, you hear the same Christmas songs floating through the air and directly into your ear until they replay automatically in your head whenever you hear even the hint of a note.

 

Yugyeom reaches for the piece of lined paper that’s stuck to the surface of the countertop, and reads his boss’ words that have been messily scribbled down. For his co-workers, their boss has to be some kind of mystical creature that they are not really sure exists, because out of all four of them, Yugyeom has the most shifts and still manages to get a glimpse of their manager maybe once a month if he’s lucky. It’s a bit like playing hide and seek – often times, he comes in the morning and there are pieces of paper placed in the most random of spots, and if he doesn’t want to risk his status as a reliable worker, he has to go around and try and find every one of them to follow the instructions.

 

“Where did that come from?”

 

He looks up, but Mark just shrugs. “I found it in the refrigerator.” He looks unimpressed. Well, it’s not really a surprise either.

 

Yugyeom averts his glance again and studies the barely illegible handwriting. Several tasks are listed on the paper, and if it were someone else in his place, they’d probably be annoyed to be hit with such a variety of unfinished duties when it’s an hour before closing time. But not Yugyeom. He likes being busy, he supposes; especially when it’s late and he’s alone in the shop.

 

“You sure it’s okay if I don’t stay longer?” Mark raises his eyebrows, putting on his jacket and scarf halfway. Yugyeom is grateful for him being as considerate, but even if he had three lists to work on, he wouldn’t make the other stay any longer than his usual shift. He knows Mark has friends to meet and other work to do and besides, he likes the silence that comes with being the last one to lock the shop.

 

“Don’t worry,” he tries to reassure the other. “I can manage it by myself. It’s just …” He raises the paper once more to look at it. “Fairy lights … Christmas music … window decoration and … what is that supposed to mean?”

 

Mark leans over the counter to look at it. “Oh. A Christmas tree.”

 

Yugyeom is severely confused. “We have a Christmas tree in here?”

 

The light in the little shop is blindingly bright, and Mark appears as a blurry figure in the fog as soon as he is out in the dark and waves a little at Yugyeom before being swallowed completely by the night. It’s around nine p.m., Yugyeom supposes. He doesn’t mind staying late. There’s a reason he prefers night shifts. Especially in winter – everything is blinking and buzzing with lights and tunes, and even though he has a particular love-hate relationship with the holidays, he can’t deny it’s beautiful. The only disadvantage is the customers that are missing. He doesn’t even know why they are open until ten. No one buys candy at ten p.m.

 

Their shop isn’t big, but it’s always easy for Yugyeom to get confused. He manages to drag the Christmas tree Mark showed him out of the back room with the contents of only two bookshelf boards hitting the floor, and it takes him solely five attempts to put it up in the corner next to the entrance. He’s proud of himself.

 

Outside, there are few people walking around, all wrapped in thick scarves and their fuzziest jackets, and Yugyeom is glad he’s decided to put on a warm sweater this morning, because even though the heating is on, he’s always cold as winter comes around. Some look in through the windows at him decorating the tree and putting up the fairy lights, and he tries not to hide behind one of the shelves because that would surely result in him falling down the ladder and he’s not exactly keen on that.

 

Christmas songs are playing as he’s working on fixing the strap of the fairy lights on the wall. He decided to just put on the playlist that is uploaded on their computer after he put the shortcut on the desktop, and it’s a mixture of old classic songs and some weird hip-hop stuff that does sound more like children screaming than any Christmas song. Thankfully, the song changes before it can affect his mood, and maybe it’s the sounds of the drums in the following song that distract him for a moment or two, but it really cannot have been that long.

 

“Hello?!”

 

He looks up and almost stumbles on the ladder. With a quick grip, he manages not to and lays the string down on the shelf before attempting to climb down the ladder.

 

“Isn’t there anyone feeling responsible for this shop?!”

 

The voice sounds angry and deeply annoyed and Yugyeom actually flinches for a split second as he walks towards the counter. It sounds like the voice of a man, a nice voice except for the obvious disappointment that’s woven into it. In the background, a classic is now playing and doesn’t fit the mood at all.

 

The shop isn’t that big, but before Yugyeom has crossed it, he can already hear the voice starting another sentence: “Are you actually serious --?!”

 

He steps around the last shelf and is met with the sight of a man standing in front of the counter. He’s angrily tapping his fingertips against the surface. Yugyeom’s first impression is that he looks like someone out of a drama, dressed in a fancy suit and coat and shoes that look like they cost more than Yugyeom’s monthly loan.

 

“Yes?” he asks, a slightly scared feeling in the pit of his stomach. The man looks up as he moves behind the counter, waiting attentively for whatever request the man has. He has a clear look of annoyance on his face as he looks at Yugyeom, and Yugyeom’s fingers curl instinctively around the hem of his sweater.

 

“I’ve been waiting for an eternity with no one showing up.” Yugyeom wants to interject that he surely couldn’t have been waiting for more than a few seconds considering the new song hadn’t been playing that long, but he keeps his mouth closed. “This is what you call service?”

 

Yugyeom lets his eyes wander over the man’s face. A frown seems to be etched onto it, and Yugyeom can see the fatigue in his facial features. He supposes the man had a hard day, wherever he is working, probably a big company considering how he is dressed. His eyes burn into Yugyeom’s with accusation, and Yugyeom decides to be diplomatic. “I’m sorry you had to wait. I was putting up the Christmas decoration.” He smiles brightly, but the man just sends him a sharp look. He’s got black hair that falls over one side of his forehead and he seems to be shooting arrows from under the strands.

 

“Unbelievable,” he says with a deep breath as if he’s trying to calm himself down, without success, apparently. Yugyeom’s glance falls onto his watch and he wonders if the man saw the sign next to the door outside or just chose to ignore it deliberately, considering it clearly says they close at ten p.m. It’s half past.

 

He makes the smart decision not to point it out. After all, the light was on and the man must have seen him from outside, so it would have been easy to assume they are still open.

 

“Is there anything specific you are looking for?” he asks instead. If this man is so annoyed it can only mean he must be troubled by whatever he has to get so late at night, and Yugyeom wants to be nice and maybe let his day end with a positive impression. “For Christmas? A special occasion?”

 

“I need something that counts as an apology.” The man bites the inside of his cheek as he taps his fingers on the counter with more emphasis. Yugyeom feels like he’s unconsciously trying to stress him out too, but he won’t let himself be stressed out.

 

“I’d say almost everything sweet can help with an apology.” He smiles, pointing at the shelves behind them. “We have marshmallows and jellies and cotton candy and –“

 

The man manages to take a breath with more frustration than Yugyeom has ever seen on anyone. He’d be impressed if he wasn’t feeling uncomfortable with the situation. “No. Something with chocolate.”

 

Yugyeom bites his lip and lets his glance wander over the shelves. He doesn’t know if the man will be picky with chocolate, but then, he looks so annoyed that Yugyeom’s gut feeling tells him he’d probably take anything in order to just get it over with and leave again. Or at least, he hopes so. Yugyeom likes cheering people up, and he’s usually pretty good with it too, but there are limits to how much he can change someone’s mood, and the business man doesn’t seem like someone who’d be grateful if he tried especially hard.

 

He reaches behind him and hands him a small box with chocolates, a nice collection, quite beautiful if you ask Yugyeom. He can’t judge the taste because he’s never eaten them. Those are the kind of chocolates you give someone as a gift. And when he buys himself chocolate it’s usually the cheap supermarket stuff because then he doesn’t have to feel guilty about eating an unhealthy amount of it every second night.

 

The man throws one quick glance at the chocolates and then nods quietly, looking around the shop with the same judging eyes that make Yugyeom feel like he’s doing everything wrong. He thinks of something to say as he reaches for a paper bag, but nothing seems appropriate. He’s actually afraid the guy will throw the chocolates at him if he dares to talk about the weather.

 

“Don’t you have gift wrapping?” Now he looks as if Yugyeom personally offended him. Yugyeom still holds the paper bag in his hands and opens his mouth to respond, but closes it again quickly at the glance like a knife that he is met with. Instead, he shakes his head.

 

The man breathes out loudly and raises his eyes to the ceiling before taking another deep breath and reaching for his wallet. “How much?”

 

“Fifteen thousand won.” Yugyeom watches him as he looks through his wallet, and in the feeling of the moment reaches for one of the candies that they store in a little glass jar on the counter, the kind of candies that are given to children for free while they wait for their parents. Without spending a second thought, he lets one of them fall into the bag, in hopes at least that small candy will be able to cheer the man up a bit, but he’s barely had the chance to put it inside before the man practically rips the bag out of his hands and slams the money down on the counter.

 

He turns around before Yugyeom can even realize what just happened. With Yugyeom’s glance resting on the back of the man’s coat, he pushes the door open roughly and disappears into the night before Yugyeom can fully comprehend it. He doesn’t think the man hears the “Thank you and good night!” anymore.

 

When he counts the bills, he notices it’s almost four times of what the chocolates originally cost. With a longing glance at the tip jar, he places the money safely in the first drawer under the counter. He doesn’t know whether the man will come back and angrily demand his money or actually be glad that Yugyeom stored it in case it was an accident. Although that last thought seems highly unlikely. The man looked like someone who doesn’t care about money – or doesn’t have to.

 

The Christmas music is still playing, Yugyeom notices. He had completely forgotten about it because of that strange customer. He looks out through the display windows as he climbs up the ladder again to finish his job, but of course, the man is long gone.

 

It’s almost midnight when Yugyeom is finally done with his work. He turns off the lights, locks the door and starts his walk home. When he enters his apartment half an hour later, he’s almost freezing.

 

Lollipop is waiting for him by the door. She meows in protest at him staying out for longer than usual, and he kneels down and caresses her in his hold.

 

“Late night, huh?” he asks, burying his nose in her fur until she slips out of his arms and disappears into the bedroom. He almost laughs. “Yeah,” he responds, “that seems like a good idea.”

 

<><><><><><><><><><><> 

 

Yugyeom loves his job. He loves the pretty layout of the shop, loves the name (“Cotton Candy”, which is pretty damn adorable if you ask him), the candy, the decorations, the colours, the smell that envelopes him every morning when he shows up for work, unlocks the door and pulls down his scarf just enough to take a deep breath. No matter how many hours a week he spends there, he never gets tired of the sugary scent of chocolate, jellies and a whole lot of other things that are so unhealthy he should be grateful he doesn’t have the money to buy more than one of the chocolate bars they sell here per month.

 

If he had the possibility, he’d probably open a candy shop on his own. But this job comes pretty close to that dream, and sometimes he feels like their regular customers think more of him as the owner than of the actual owner anyways. He’s always here, after all.

 

Bambam shows up at eleven, a bit over an hour after Yugyeom has opened the shop. He’s carrying boxes with new deliveries from the back of the shop to the front, unpacking them and trying to organize where everything belongs in the same time as writing down the changes in stock. The end part of the playlist is playing and Yugyeom is excited for when it’ll start from the beginning again, because one of his favorite songs is placed right at the start.

 

Bambam whistles as he takes off his jacket. There’s no snow yet, but the cold is biting, sharp like a blade, especially when it’s windy.

 

“Wow, if it continues to get like 20 degrees colder every week until the holidays I’ll be stumbling in here as a snowman on Christmas.” Bambam shakes his head, trying to fix his ruffled hair and Yugyeom breaks into laughter. His hair looks like a bird nest. He bites on his lip and suppresses another smile when Bambam sends him a warning glance.

 

“Deliveries came in?” Bambam asks as soon as he’s back from putting his jacket away, and Yugyeom nods, pointing to the back of the shop; the boxes pile up until they almost reach the ceiling, and the ceiling is admittingly very high.

 

“I could use some help,” Yugyeom smiles and shyly looks down. Bambam’s lovely, just like Mark is, and Jackson, who’s been on his free days this past week, but even though Yugyeom is friends with them in what  his definition of friends his, he’s never quite sure if they think the same of him. They’ve never met up outside of work after all, and he feels like it would be inappropriate of him to ask. He’s the youngest and all of them seem so busy all the time, talking about meeting friends and going out and all Yugyeom ever does is smile and try not to let them notice how strange that kind of life seems to him.

 

“Sure!” Bambam’s quick to reach for a few boxes, and he manages to almost knock over a whole shelf in the process, which is a new record. Bambam’s a bit clumsy at times, which only makes him more likable in Yugyeom’s opinion.

 

“How’s your weekend?” Bambam asks and there is the dreaded question. Yugyeom takes another few stacks of pop tarts and walks down the row of shelves to put them next to the popcorn machines they sell.

 

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” He counts the pile of boxes and walks back to write the number down. “It’s gotten so cold since the beginning of December I had to look for all of my winter jackets.”

 

Bambam might be thinking he’s holding all the interesting details of his weekend back for the sake of small talk, but seriously, it’s the most exciting thing he’s done all week. Most of his days, he’s in the shop from 8 until 10, from Monday to Saturday, and when he gets home, he eats dinner and cuddles with Lollipop and watches movies and sorts out his winter jackets. Sunday is no exception. Oh, and he hung up a string of fairy lights. He holds back saying that, though.

 

“What did you do?” he asks instead and helps Bambam open one of the boxes with scissors. Bambam’s known to have the most interesting weekend stories, even more thrilling ones than Jackson’s, whose are pretty spectacular at times. But maybe Yugyeom’s standards are also really, really low.

 

“I went out with friends for dinner and a movie on Saturday, and you wouldn’t believe what we witnessed!” Bambam is in full story-telling-mode and nothing’s going to stop him. “You know that Entertainment Company, JSP?”

 

Yugyeom nods, of course he does. It’s one of Korea’s most well-known companies when it comes to music and idol groups, solo artists and everything such. It’s on the news every once in a while with big contracts and international relations and things Yugyeom has no knowledge about, but lately, they’ve been making bad headlines. Something about bribes and having unfair advantages when it comes to the national competition on shows, cooperations and such. Yugyeom hasn’t really followed the news.

 

“The news tore them apart last week, but damn, their dancers sure are promising!” He laughs with a wink and hurries to catch a bag of sweets that’s about to crash onto the floor. “A group that’s about to debut had a street performance and we were just in time to see it all. I thought they wouldn’t be able to let anyone debut for a while after all the bad reputation, but apparently, other music labels still show interest in their groups.”

 

Yugyeom has to smile at Bambam’s enthusiasm. He loves music, and he loves idol groups even more. Whenever there’s a comeback, he’s the first one to jump behind the counter and look for the video on the computer right before it drops, and he has a hundred weekly alarms on his phone for music shows and album releases and no matter how many times he explains it all to Yugyeom, it’s all a bit confusing. But Yugyeom always stands next to him and nods with a lot of consideration when Bambam explains why the new music video is the best one ever shot and then consequently changes his opinion two days later when another video is published.

 

“Anyways.” Bambam smiles apologetically. “Sunday I studied with Mark. Well, we tried to study, but ended up ordering pizza and watching a movie.”

 

Actually it makes a lot of sense Bambam is that into music. He’s studying fashion design after all, and if the covers of magazines and articles published daily on the Internet have anything to say, then it’s always the idols setting the latest trends. Additionally, Yugyeom admits, Bambam has a really good style. Together with Mark they look like they emerged straight out of a photoshoot, and when they told Yugyeom they studied at the same university, he actually almost assumed Mark had the same major (which he, in fact, doesn’t – Mark studies game design and animation and Yugyeom has never been more up to date to the latest game releases than since working with Mark). They have a bond Yugyeom has been jealous of more than a few times, though he tries to suppress it. He hates feeling jealous.

 

“Sounds relatable,” he says, even though he can barely relate, because he doesn’t study as he doesn’t go to university, and if he did, he would do it alone. And he never orders pizza. But he feels like it would be relatable if he were a bit more like Bambam.

 

Yugyeom is just about to ask Bambam about the date of their exam, when the little bell above the door makes a high, happy noise, signalling that a customer entered the shop. Yugyeom feels that little bubbly feeling that he always gets at the possibility of making someone’s day better with chocolate; the hours before lunch are usually a bit calmer in the shop and now that it’s nearing noon, they expect more customers soon.

 

He turns around, giving Bambam a little smile to let him know he’ll take care of it, and turns left towards the counter. He’s watching the floor so he doesn’t trip over any boxes laying around, and when he looks up, he almost has a heart attack.

 

Turning his body a hundred and eighty degrees immediately, he slips behind the closest shelf. It was naïve to assume it was a given that he’d never see him again, but well, somehow Yugyeom did over the course of the past week, the exactly seven days that have passed since he’s last set foot into this shop and was the rudest customer Yugyeom had ever had to talk to. And trust him, he’s had a lot of crying children and tired moms and angry fathers so far. But this man – he topped everything.

 

If looks could have killed, Yugyeom wouldn’t be alive anymore by now. And he’s afraid he won’t be much longer if he turns around again, because the man in suit and with black parted hair is standing in front of the counter yet again. Yugyeom has only seen him from behind yet, and he has the slight hope his frustration won’t be as high as the last time because it’s only lunch and not night time, but that’s a small straw to cling onto.

 

Cursing himself for not letting Bambam take care of the customer, he takes a deep breath and tries to act casually as he turns around again and walks up to the counter, behaving like he hadn’t just had half a mind to run away. He’s dealt with plenty of customers, he can do this.

 

(Internally, he’s torn between scolding the universe that made the man now show up twice in a row though he had never been here before in all the months since Yugyeom started working, or thanking the universe for giving him a chance to maybe change the man’s bad mood a bit this time, at least.)

 

The man looks unimpressed as Yugyeom smiles at him, but thank God, he isn’t tapping his fingers against the countertop. Yugyeom decides that’s a start.

 

“Hello,” he says. “How can I help you?”

 

He scans the man’s face for any clues of disappointment, and though he doesn’t look happy, at least he doesn’t look as frustrated as last Wednesday. The frown is there, between his eyebrows, but he doesn’t look like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders anymore. Yugyeom notices he feels relieved upon seeing that.

 

“I’d like to buy chocolates.” The man looks at Yugyeom, fortunately not shooting arrows anymore. Instead, he looks like he’s calculating something, not exactly uncomfortable but also not at ease. He blinks, and looks away again.

 

Yugyeom is not sure if he’s allowed to ask, but he decides to break the ice a little before they’ll both freeze. “I hope the chocolates helped a bit with the apology the first time?”

 

The man seems a bit taken aback for a second, but then he’s collected again and nods courtly. “I suppose.”

 

The atmosphere is a bit awkward and Yugyeom’s not too sure what he expected. That the man would throw insults to his face? Say the chocolates tasted badly? That he wanted his money back? That he’d sue them? He looks like he could sue someone right here and now, dressed in yet another suit under the winter coat.

 

“I’d like the same ones again.” The man reaches for his wallet. “She liked them.”

 

Yugyeom nods and smiles, pleased with the answer, as he reaches behind him for one of the boxes. His glance shoots up to see the man’s reaction as he puts it into a paper bag carefully, but he doesn’t seem half as stressed out by that as last time. He rather looks like he’s debating with himself about something Yugyeom has no idea about.

 

It’s when he gives Yugyeom the bills that the playlist starts from the beginning on again and Yugyeom can’t help but express a little happy smile at one of his favourite Christmas songs by Michael Buble. Bambam doesn’t like it that much, so Yugyeom would feel bad about secretly putting it twice on the playlist, but that only means he enjoys it that much more when it comes on.

 

The man is staring at him when he averts his glance again, and Yugyeom feels embarrassed for a second. He watches as the man opens his mouth to say something, but before he’s able to, Bambam’s fearful cry for help breaks through the shop, which admittingly sounds a lot more like the screaming of an otter.

 

“Ah, wait for a second, please.” He puts a shy smile on and sprints around the counter and down the row of shelves to see that Bambam’s about to let a whole stack of boxes crash onto the floor. Quickly, he reaches out and helps to securely set them down before a catastrophe can happen.

 

He’s just about to walk back to the front when he hears a faint “Goodbye” echoing through the shop and the doorbell chime once again. He hurries to cross the shop, but when he reaches the entrance door, he only sees the man’s figure for another split second before it disappears from the shop windows.

 

Yugyeom sighs internally. He doesn’t even know why he told him to wait, it’s not like they have things to talk about, but maybe he unconsciously hoped he’d be able to make up for their horrible first encounter with a bit of small talk. But then, he probably shouldn’t stress his luck.

 

He stretches with a deep breath, and when he opens his eyes, they catch onto the wallet laying on the countertop. He blinks, trying to remember how long it has been laying there, when he realizes it hasn’t until a minute ago. With a dash of fear he quickly reaches for it, opening it after a moment of hesitation to make sure he doesn’t make a total fool out of himself.

 

He pulls out the ID card, and looks at the photo. It’s him. It’s even the same frown on the photo. Yugyeom would’ve smiled if the fact he is holding the man’s ID wouldn’t have meant he’d forgotten his wallet. His eyes stop at the name printed on the card next to the photo.

 

_Park Jinyoung._

 

“Gonna be back in a second!” he screams through the shop, in hopes Bambam can hear him over the music, and is almost out the door when he remembers the money the man paid too much last time. He runs back and pulls open the drawer, reaches for the money and accidentally also for a few individually packed pieces of chocolate.

 

Outside the cold is biting, and without a jacket he feels like the wind is going to take him with it. He remembers the man’s figure going left, so he runs in that direction as he tries to put the money into the wallet. The chocolate he notices he unconsciously grabbed, he puts into the compartment in the back, hoping just like last time it’ll cheer the man up.

 

 _Park Jinyoung_ , he thinks as he runs and looks out for him. The name sounds familiar on his tongue, though he doesn’t remember why.

 

People are staring at him, and his lips feel numb because of the cold. He almost thinks he might have lost him, when his eyes scam over the black coat in the crowd. He puts his last energy into his sprint and reaches out for the man, laying his hand on his shoulder and almost turning him around in the process as he stops running.

 

“What –“ The man turns around, the frown growing deeper and an unpleasant emotion playing around the corners of his mouth, until his eyes seem to take in Yugyeom’s panting figure and his hand clutching the wallet, reaching out to give it back.

 

“I’m sorry,” Yugyeom says, gasping a bit for air. He hasn’t run anywhere in a long time, let alone done any physical activity. “You forgot your … your …”

 

“My wallet.” The man actually looks surprised. He takes the wallet back and seems to be contemplating whether or not to open it, before deciding against it. “You ran all that way after me just for the wallet?”

 

Yugyeom looks up and notices he’s almost three whole streets down from the shop, a considerable distance. Either the man was walking really fast or he had just been daydreaming before noticing the lost wallet.

 

“Of course,” he says without hesitation and is finally able to calm his breathing down at least a bit. “I’ve put the money inside.” At the man’s confused expression he adds: “I mean, the money you paid too much last Wednesday.”

 

If he’s surprised by this too, he doesn’t let it show. He frowns and Yugyeom realizes he probably shouldn’t waste his time any longer, if he doesn’t want to go back to the bad mood from last week. He nods, smiles breathlessly and says: “Well, I don’t wanna hold you back any longer then. Have a nice day.”

 

With a short bow, he’s almost turned around when the man calls out: “Wait.”

 

Now it’s Yugyeom’s turn for surprise. He looks over his shoulder and faces him again. The sky is white and grey today and it’s the first time Yugyeom really looks at him, he realizes, past the frown and parted hair. He has eyes that would look soft without the tense facial expression, eyelashes long and black and casting shadows like pieces of thread over his cheeks and his skin looks smooth like porcelain.

 

He seems to still be contemplating his words. Then, he looks at the wallet and up at Yugyeom. “Thank you.”

 

It’s more than what Yugyeom expected. He rarely holds any expectations on people. His lips curl into a smile and he’s more glad than ever he put the little wrapped chocolates into the man’s wallet. When he looks at Yugyeom without that tautness just like now, he doesn’t seem all that intimidating.

 

“Don’t mention it.” He feels like he was able to make the man’s day a bit better, maybe, at least. It’s all he can do as someone selling candy every day, to make people’s days a bit better with an ounce of sugar. He’s solely a spectator of other people’s lives, and most of the time, he’s happy he can just make the tiniest bit of change.

 

They look at each other, and Yugyeom feels like the man wants to say something else, but doesn’t. Yugyeom doesn’t want to let it get awkward; additionally, Bambam’s probably on the best way of destroying the whole shop.

 

“I should get back,” he therefore says, shooting the man a smile, but this time, the man doesn’t hesitate until he’s turned around.

 

His response is immediate. “Wait. I wanted to …” Now he looks uncomfortable. “Apologize for our last encounter.”

 

Yugyeom’s heart beats a little faster in surprise, and he himself is astonished by how much a little gesture like this can light up his heart. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

“No, I had a bad day and it was nothing to let out on you.” He raises his glance, looking at Yugyeom and though he doesn’t smile Yugyeom feels like his frown is disappearing a bit. “Thank you for not holding that against me.”

 

“I would never.” Yugyeom smiles and points at the bag. “I hope you or whoever you give them to enjoys them. And I hope you have a better day today.”

 

The man nods and puts his wallet away. “You too.”

 

“Goodbye.” Yugyeom waves at him and immediately scolds himself for appearing so childishly, but it’s already too late. He takes a few steps backwards and sends the man who’s nodding a goodbye a smile in return, before starting to walk faster to get out of the cold. His lips hurt.

 

“What happened?” Bambam asks him when he comes back, shivering. He rubs his arms and mutters: “Customer. Forgot his wallet.”

 

Bambam helps him make tea and grabs his jacket out of the back room which Yugyeom quickly curls himself in in, and Yugyeom tells him: “He almost looked like he didn’t frown at all in the end.”

 

Bambam looks confused. “Who?” he asks, but Yugyeom burns his lips on the hot tea and can’t answer. When the burning has calmed down, Bambam’s already back to opening the boxes and has forgotten his question.

 

Later that day, Yugyeom finds himself in his bedroom, pen in his hand and desperately trying to come up with something to write on his Christmas cards. He’s writing one for Bambam, Jackson and Mark and one for his boss and one for their delivery guy. He tries to think of something more personal than the standard wishes for the holidays, but his brain won’t come up with anything.

 

Lollipop his curled in his lap and meows once every few minutes in protest. She’s gone from strolling through the whole flat to napping to wanting some more entertainment, and after an hour of unproductive card writing Yugyeom has pity with her and turns on the TV on the drawer. Some drama about crimes is playing, and he’s rather uninterested, but at least Lollipop stops scratching him.

 

When he comes back from brushing his teeth and putting his pyjamas on, the program has changed to the daily news at midnight which he normally would have turned off, but because of some reason leaves on today. He turns up the volume so he can listen to it while putting his pens and the cards away. They are talking about something with climate change and the last political meeting of the ministers and Yugyeom’s really only looking forward to the weather forecast, when his ears catch onto the word JSP and he has to think of what Bambam said today.

 

Sitting down on his bed, he turns the volume even higher and runs his hand lazily through Lollipop’s fur. She’s acting like his bed is hers.

 

“With the recent headlines about bribes concerning the JSP Music and Entertainment Company, chairman Park Jisoon has yet again given a public statement in which he clears these accuses. The rumors that started last year have ever since put a strain on the company’s reputation and market value.”

 

Yugyeom listens to the news speaker telling the story, but it’s nothing he doesn’t know already. The screen switches to Park Jisoon at the press conference and he recalls the faint memory of his face on magazines and articles. He talks about the rumors and accuses and tries to make them sound like nonsense. Yugyeom has no idea who’s the culprit in that case, and he doesn’t really care either.

 

That’s until the picture changes.

 

“Despite the newly-published accusations, JSP is about to launch the debut of a new girlgroup named Casper. The exact debut date is to be announced next week, but CEO Park Jinyoung already gave an insight to the concept this afternoon.”

 

Yugyeom leans forward on his bed, so far he almost falls off the mattress. Lollipop hisses as he nearly crashes into her before balancing out. He knows the man’s face, and of course, he also knows his name. No wonder it felt familiar on his tongue. He’s surely heard his name on the news before. It’s the man’s face – _Park Jinyoung_ , Yugyeom thinks – on the screen, and he’s talking about the serious approach to a darker concept for the new idol group.

 

Yugyeom doesn’t quite catch his sentences, because he’s only staring at his face until the screen changes again and it’s back to the news speaker, and then to the weather forecast. The frown is back, he thinks, pouting as he remembers how much more relaxed the man looked without it earlier today. He seemed like a completely different person on television right now, like the first time he entered the shop, but certainly not like today when he said thank you and apologized like Yugyeom would’ve never imagined.

 

When he snaps out of his thoughts, the weather forecast is over and some movie is playing. He turns off the TV and climbs out of bed to turn off the light. When he sits down on the mattress again, he catches himself thinking about how that man called Park Jinyoung would look with a smile on his lips.

 

“I’m weird,” he tells Lollipop when she has finished draping herself all over his body in the dark. The lights of cars outside on the street are drawing irregular patterns on the ceiling.

 

He has to think about how much pressure there is being put on a CEO, how much pressure Park Jinyoung must have on him, being responsible for the public image of a company that big and well-known. He surely can’t be that much older than him, can he? He wouldn’t look like it. The constant frown on his face suddenly makes a lot of sense, Yugyeom reasons.

 

“I feel sorry for him,” he whispers into the dark. Lollipop’s surely already asleep, a comfortable weight on his body. “I hope he smiled today.”

 

When he falls asleep after what feels like an eternity, he dreams of chocolate and suits and smiles – a lot of smiles, but not Park Jinyoung’s.


	2. Barely A Smile, Almost A Laugh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies!
> 
> I am back with another chapter, finally! January is packed with exam schedules, so I'm always grateful for free time to write~
> 
> Thank you for all the positive feedback for the last chapter! We didn't have that much Pepigyeom interaction in Chap.1, but in Chap.2 we will be getting a whole lot of it! <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this chapter! Keep yourself warm during those cold days, take some time off for yourself, and treat yourself well <3
> 
> Love,  
> Aki
> 
> PS: I have a playlist for this story on Youtube now. It's called "Bittersweet - Pepigyeom (@Akiko-chaan on Ao3)". I will keep adding songs that I listen to while writing!  
> (Link: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLyntIMFmD8Hnwh-gaD04K0JZUR2lzAwfJ )

The 17th of December is a Friday, and Yugyeom is late for work.

Which is unusual, because Yugyeom is never late for work. In all those months of working at Cotton Candy, he has only once been late, and that was because Lollipop had been feeling sick all night long and Yugyeom had barely slept in worry; and the first thing he had done as soon as the clock stroke eight a.m. was to put on his coat and rush her to the vet.

But that had been the only time in more than two hundred. Not rain, not even snow or thunder or storm can stop Yugyeom from coming to work on time.

So when Yugyeom does come to work late, everyone knows something’s up, something very extraordinary, if not a reason for worry. Bambam knows it, and Mark knows it, and Jackson knows it, too. Which is probably why Yugyeom is bombarded with concerned glances and questions as soon as he enters the shop.

“I even texted Bambam to ask him if Yugyeom said anything yesterday about –“

Both Mark and Jackson look up as the bell above the door rings, and when they recognize Yugyeom, their eyes widen in surprise until they look like they saw a ghost. Yugyeom drags himself over the doorstep, proceeding to take off his coat as Mark and Jackson are both still almost comically blinking at the boy in front of them. As soon as he’s caught his breath from running so fast, he chants: “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

“Where were you?” Jackson is the first to come back to his senses and rushes over towards Yugyeom with a step or two, as to see if he’s actually alive, blood and flesh and all, whereas Mark stands still, looking as if he’s afraid of coming nearer, like Yugyeom is some kind of scary creature.

Yugyeom sighs. “Sorry, I … I overslept and …” He doesn’t even know what he wants to say, his head feels like it’s wrapped in clouds and cotton.

“We were just worried.” Mark finds his voice again. “You’re never late. We had to use the spare key.”

Yugyeom nods, guilt taking over him. He bites on his lip as he tries to look for an excuse. “I’m so … I’m so sorry, really. I didn’t mean to make you wait, I ran here as fast as I could, I should have …”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Jackson tries to calm him down; he has that soothing look in his eyes that Yugyeom has always been grateful for. Everything is less scary when Jackson looks at you like that. “God, you look like hell. Hand me that coat and let me give you some water.”

In fact, Yugyeom does not only look like hell, he also feels like hell. He threw on the first sweater he could find laying around, almost put on two different shoes and barely remembered to lock the front door. He’s actually surprised he managed not to get runover by a car on his way here. Most definitely, he’s more glad than ever his brain has memorized the way from his apartment to the shop by now so he can run down the streets without having to think about where to go, because that’s probably the only reason he’s even here right now.

Yugyeom follows Jackson into the back room, a small square room only for staff. Mark’s handling a customer that just came in, and Yugyeom listens to the reassuring sound of a known voice, barely able to make out the words as he lets himself fall down onto the couch. It’s an ugly, old and worn-out red couch, but it has character. It’s comfortable and the fabric is soft and any other time Yugyeom would have been afraid of falling asleep on it, but not today.

Yugyeom feels like he won’t be able to sleep for at least a week.

Jackson pours him a glass of water after catching the bottle out of the refrigerator that’s taking up half of the space in the room, next to a little table and the coat hanger for their jackets. The metallic surface is full of little notes, phone numbers and delivery schedules and their working shifts. The letters seem to blur in front of Yugyeom’s eyes. _It’s okay_ , he tells himself. _It’s gonna go away._

“Do you need anything else?” Jackson looks legimately worried and Yugyeom can’t blame him. He feels like he’s on the verge of passing out, and if that is any indication, he must look horrible. “Painkillers? Do you have headache? You look like you’re in pain.”

Yugyeom shakes his head, trying to calm the other down, though that motion in itself hurts. He gets dizzy from painkillers, and he’s got a whole day of work in front of him. “It’s fine. I’m sorry I’m –“

“Stop apologizing.” Jackson’s voice is soft. “Lie down for a bit, I’m gonna go help Mark.”

Jackson leaves the door open and Yugyeom is so incredibly grateful; he feels like he couldn’t stand silence right now. His room was silent when he woke up and that felt just as bad as when his eyes were still closed. He needs something to distract him right now.

Though he walks to work and back home six times a week, he’s not used to sprinting, so his joints feels sore when he gets up a few minutes later. Gulping down the water, he comes to the conclusion the world is back in its hinges and won’t crash down on him any second anymore. That’s a start.

Fridays are busy days. A lot of people are visiting their families over the weekend and whether it’s for children, for their cousins and nephews, or for their parents, siblings or aunts and uncles, they all want to bring something sweet as a present. Additionally, Christmas is just around the corner and everyone’s looking for gifts. Especially boys and girls Yugyeom’s age seem to spend hours in the shop, looking for the perfect chocolate selection for their significant other.

Yugyeom tries his hardest to be professional and positive today. Christmas is always a difficult holiday for him, and though seeing happy couples makes himself happy, too, it’s always hard to cope. He had expected it, but still, the last week passed so fast he feels like someone snapped their fingers and he wasn’t prepared at all.

Thankfully, Jackson and Mark, those angels, try to take as much work off his shoulders as they can. Yugyeom tries not to feel guilty about it; they have perfect teamwork, shooting each other smiles at every possible occasion, and whenever he tries to apologize, Jackson just shakes his head with a warning glance and Yugyeom shuts up again.

It’s almost half past seven when the rush finally calms down and the shop gets calmer. Mark and Jackson seem exhausted, but help clean up nonetheless, so Yugyeom won’t have to do it all alone later.

“Are you sure you’re fine on your own?” Mark asks when they’ve put away the brooms and Yugyeom determinedly nods. His headache has almost gone away, and now he just feels that aching fatigue in his bones that will only go away with a good night of sleep, which he is not so sure he is going to get tonight.

“We really can stay if you want us to.” Jackson looks like he wants to persuade him, but Yugyeom knows they’ve got plans to go out for dinner. He’s overheard their conversation earlier and even if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t make them stay.

He smiles. “Thank you for taking care of me today. I’m feeling a lot better than this morning. No reason to drag out your shift. There’s not much going on anymore anyways.”

“If anything happens, call us.” Jackson still looks like he wants to say something, and Jackson can never hold back with these kinds of things, so he asks: “Did something happen? I’ve been meaning to ask you all day. You didn’t just look like you were out of breath from running this morning.”

 _It’s that day of the year_ , Yugyeom thinks, but of course he doesn’t say it. It’s nothing he’d ever really feel comfortable sharing, and it’s too much to explain, too much to even understand himself sometimes. He recalls voices and pictures and an excrutiating headache and that hollow feeling in his chest that just won’t leave him alone. Today is one of those days, as it always is, and tomorrow it won’t be that much better maybe, but it will be another day, and so it’ll be okay.

“I had a really poor night of sleep.” He doesn’t say the word – nightmares. “And then I additionally managed to oversleep and get a hundred things messed up.” He laughs.

Mark smiles. “Yeah, I also know someone who oversleeps all the time.”

“Hey!” Jackson slaps his shoulder jokingly and Mark pretends to be hurt, pouting and rubbing his shoulder with a sad expression.

“I didn’t even say your name, dumbass!”

Jackson rolls his eyes but Yugyeom can see he’s smiling nonetheless. He points at Yugyeom with raised eyebrows and tells him: “Drink some tea and relax on the weekend, yeah? Tell Bambam to work hard tomorrow or I’ll kick his ass.”

Yugyeom nods, grinning. (He doesn’t drink tea, only if he puts ten tablespoons of sugar into it, and someone taught him early on that’s nothing to do if you want to be healthy.)

Mark and Jackson leave and Yugyeom looks after them with a sigh. They’re angels, and though he didn’t specifically lie to them, just leave out part of the truth, he feels guilt climbing up his spine.

He turns around and leans against the edge of the countertop. He’s always the one to turn the calender, to add a new day to the list of days he’s spent here, and as he hasn’t turned it today yet, the calender’s still on the 16th. At least he managed not to turn it around until now. And at least no one asked him about the date; not today and not in the months prior, or else there would be a little sticker formed like a star on today’s date, too, and Yugyeom’s glad there isn’t.

No more customers enter the shop, and so Yugyeom stops the playlist. Outside, it has started to snow, and thick, white snowflakes are slowly making their way down to earth, being caught in the branches of trees and on the sidewalks. The streets are empty. The main road isn’t far away, and every few seconds, Yugyeom can see the headlights of cars breaking through the darkness in the distance. White is coating the pavement and roofs of houses and it looks like little petals are falling from the sky.

He counts the money and goes to the back room to rinse his mug in the small sink, before putting on his coat and scarf and the beret that he grabbed this morning on his way out in order to warm his ears, but that nearly fell off his head from running so fast and had therefore been stuffed into his pocket.

He turns the lights off and checks if everything is ready to be left like this until tomorrow morning. The shop smells of sugar and warmth, and he starts shivering almost immediately after reaching for his umbrella next to the door and opening said door.

It’s so cold outside that the snowflakes are tumbling to the ground without much worries about melting. There’s surely already a centimetre or two of snow below his shoes, and his breath forms little clouds in the air.

He locks the door and opens his umbrella. It’s snowing so hard he can feel the wind in his face, and if it wasn’t for the umbrella, his hair would be soaking wet in the matter of a few minutes, together with his beret. He’s tired and ready to go home and cuddle with Lollipop for the rest of the night.

However, his equation isn’t fully made until he turns around, ready to begin walking on the pavement, and his eyes catch on a figure on the other side of the market square that lies between the two rows of shops on this street. It looks like a man, and he’s walking fast, trying to fight against the heavy snow.

Yugyeom looks at his umbrella and then at the man, and quickly hurries to cross the street with the strong need to help whoever is running on a slippery pavement at this hour of the night without an umbrella. The ground hasn’t frozen that much yet, so it’s still pretty safe to walk. He picks up speed and calls out: “Wait!”

For a second, it seems the man hasn’t heard him, but then, he turns around, looking at Yugyeom from under his hand that he’s shielding his eyes with. Through the snow, it’s barely possible to see anything, let alone recognize anyone, so only when Yugyeom stops right in front of him does he notice who he called out for.

It’s him. He’s wearing his coat tightly wrapped around him, lips turning a bit blue from the cold and hair damp from the melting snow, some snowflakes still caught in his strands. The headlights of a car from somewhere behind them light up all of a sudden and it looks like a golden haze. Yugyeom blinks.

“Hello.” It’s the first time it’s him and not Yugyeom that says hello first and although it’s only the third time they meet, Yugyeom still deems it something extraordinary. Through his fatigue and the cold, a smile breaks out on his lips and he answers enthusiastically: “Hello!”

“Did you call out to wait?” He seems confused, even more so as he notices the snow isn’t falling on his head anymore. He looks up, at Yugyeom’s umbrella that’s a shelter for both of them now.

“I saw you running through the snow.” Suddenly, Yugyeom is self-conscious. He would have offered his umbrella to any stranger, but now that he knows it’s him, he feels like he’s too pushy somehow, like he might be a bother. “It’s snowing pretty hard, you’re gonna catch a cold until you’re home.”

The man’s expression is unreadable. “I’m just walking to my car.”

Yugyeom says: “The car park is a few streets away.”

And there it is, the tense atmosphere that a conversation between them can’t live without, apparently. It’s strange, Yugyeom thinks, because an awkwardness like this should be uncomfortable, something you want to escape from, yet Yugyeom feels warm. He feels like he could stand there for an eternity without saying anything at all. After a few seconds, he does nonetheless.

“Here.” He raises the umbrella and reaches for the man’s hand that’s still shielding his eyes, wanting to lay it around the handle. Only when their fingers touch, he notices how weird he must be acting. He can feel his face heating up, and quickly pushes the handle into the man’s fingers. “You … You can take it.”

In fact, he’s so embarrassed he feels the urge to just disappear. He nods, more to himself than to anyone. “Good night.”

He steps out of the shelter the umbrella is providing, snowflakes immediately getting caught in his hair. He barely knows the man, how could he act so confidently? Internally slapping himself, he flinches in surprise when the umbrella reappears in his field of sight.

“I suppose you only have one umbrella,” the man says and tilts his head in the direction of where Yugyeom was walking. “Let’s go together?”

Yugyeom is surprised; he’d more or less expected the man to be glad to have been given an umbrella without any annoying company. But he’s in no position to complain, so he nods with a smile.

“What’s your name?” The question comes unforeseenly and it takes Yugyeom a second to process it. Walking together below the umbrella proves itself as a task, because it’s small and Yugyeom wants to keep the polite distance that’s expected from strangers, so he’s putting all his attention into not tripping over the sidewalk, being shielded from the snow and still not coming too close. Additionally, it hasn’t crossed his mind at all to ask for the man’s name.

After all, he knows it already. He’s Park Jinyoung, CEO of one of the biggest, most famous companies in all of South Korea. No way in hell he’s going to admit that though. He doesn’t want him to believe he’s the strangest stalker in world’s history.

“Kim Yugyeom,” he answers, not expecting any reaction. It’s not like he’s an idol, someone well-known, someone important. When he turns his head though, he imagines the frown deepens for a split second before going back to normal.

“Nice to meet you, Kim Yugyeom.” He’s not looking at Yugyeom, glance focused on the pavement in front of them, but Yugyeom feels a smile forming on his lips. “I’m Park Jinyoung.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

It seems like the snowfall is getting even heavier by the minute, and Yugyeom is increasingly glad he offered Jinyoung his umbrella, and that Jinyoung offered him to walk together. Going through this snowstorm without an umbrella would be a lot more uncomfortable than being stuck under this thin piece of fabric with a now not-so-much-anymore stranger. Yugyeom likes it quite a lot, actually. It’s the first time since …

It’s the first time he’s ever walking home from work with anyone.

The walk passes in comfortable silence; silence scares Yugyeom today, but being silent with someone else is something different. He watches the snowflakes fall. Somehow, he wants to talk with him … Jinyoung, he reminds himself, about something, anything, but he doesn’t know if the other prefers the silence over his voice. He spends street after street contemplating and looking for words without finding any.

When they’ve almost arrived at the car park, it’s neither of them that speaks the first word, but instead Jinyoung’s phone that rings. It’s like a cut through the calm winter night. Yugyeom offers to take the umbrella with a wordless gesture, and Jinyoung gives it to him, focused on the phone screen as he accepts the call and brings the phone up to his ear.

“Park Jinyoung,” he answers and takes a few steps to the side, out of the shelter of the umbrella. Through the wind, Yugyeom can only hear a few syllables. He watches as Jinyoung puts his hand into the pocket of his coat, walks a bit on the same spot, snowflakes coating his hair. Yugyeom hopes the call won’t take too long and that they’ll soon be at his car, because he looks like he’s freezing.

After what feels like an eternity, but couldn’t have been more than two minutes, Jinyoung ends the call and walks back to where Yugyeom stands.

“Sorry for making you wait.” He has a ton of snowflakes in his hair that are slowly melting and Yugyeom has the strange urge to run his fingers through the strands. “It was a business call.”

Yugyeom nods, internally wondering how normal it is for Jinyoung to receive business calls past ten p.m.

Without saying anything, Jinyoung takes the umbrella again und Yugyeom lets him. The car park is only a few hundred meters away; snow crunches beneath their feet as they cross the street, a loud noise in the night.

“Which direction are you going?” Jinyoung asks as he suddenly stops walking, and without being able to explain why, Yugyeom feels a bit sad, having to part ways so soon. Walking in silence with Jinyoung was different than walking in silence alone.

Yugyeom points down the street. “This way. My apartment is … maybe another twenty minutes away.”

Jinyoung seems to think. Yugyeom notes that his frown changes when he’s thinking about something. “Have you eaten dinner?” he then asks and Yugyeom blinks with wide eyes.

“Um, no,” he answers truthfully. To be honest, he hasn’t even eaten lunch. Or breakfast. He’s been in the shop since half past eight maybe, and because he overslept, he didn’t have the time to eat in the morning nor pack something for lunch. His stomach started growling obnoxiously loud sometime during noon, and by now it seems like it’s given up, because there’s only a dull ache that’s left.

Jinyoung looks at his phone again, apparently to check the time. Then, he looks up at Yugyeom. “Do you want to catch dinner? A project I thought I’d work on the whole night just got cancelled and there’s a good Italian restaurant just a few blocks away.”

Yugyeom is taken aback by the question. Considering their first encounter, he wouldn’t have expected the man to ever be so … friendly? He feels happy, and grateful, and actually has to tune down his excitement a bit when he answers: “Sure, why … not?” He can’t hold back the self-conscious part of him that adds: “Why are you asking me of all people?”

“Well, I owe you,” Jinyoung says and though he doesn’t smile, his eyes seem to get a little softer. “And your stomach growled like you were starving on our way here.”

Yugyeom blushes. “You apologized, that’s more than enough,” he says quietly, but Jinyoung just nods in the direction of the car park, and they start walking towards the entrance. Yugyeom can feel the blush spreading on his cheeks. Apparently his stomach hadn’t given up, after all. He feels embarrassed and thrilled at the same time.

There aren’t that many cars parked here anymore as it’s already pretty late, and Jinyoung leads Yugyeom towards his car at the end of the row on the ground floor. Yugyeom was already expecting a car that looks just as expensive as Jinyoung’s suit, but this is even more than the image his mind came up with – though Yugyeom has no idea about cars and couldn’t name brands to save his life, he knows when something is expensive and this car definitely fits in that category. It’s black, and looks a lot like those hyper-modern cars that cause Yugyeom to change the channel in commercial breaks when ads for them show up on TV.

Jinyoung closes the umbrella and says nothing else as he puts it in the trunk and proceeds getting into the car, so Yugyeom hurries to get to the other side.

It’s only when he’s standing next to the door that his blood runs cold.

He’s an idiot. He stands there for a few moments, just staring at the door, and doesn’t know what to do with his hands. It’s like getting tunnel vision when being confronted with something you ignored, and it’s not until Jinyoung lets down the window and leans forward that Yugyeom seems to awake out of his momentary trance. He pushes the door open from the inside and Yugyeom feels frozen.

“Get in,” he says with a tint of confusion in his voice. “Or … do you not want to eat dinner?” He looks away for a split second. “You probably already have plans.”

“I don’t.”

He hadn’t thought well about this. God, he was such an idiot. He literally let himself be led into a car park and didn’t think about the fact he would have to get into a car. But, of course, what can he say now; nothing. Nothing at all that wouldn’t make him look like he was out of his mind. Somehow, he doesn’t want Jinyoung to think about him that way.

Today, it seems like all of his worst fears are coming together.

He deserves it, though.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, tries not to focus on the car, to think about anything else than the fact it’s a car. It looks expensive, that’s it. He can think about that, he supposes. He’s even afraid of touching the doorhandle because it looks so expensive, and when he sits down, he forces his first thought to be worry about whether or not his jeans is clean enough to touch something as expensive as the seat below him, and not the fear clawing at the back of his mind.

Yugyeom notices Jinyoung’s glance on him and looks up. “You look like you’re scared. I’m not going to kidnap you.”

Yugyeom hadn’t actually thought someone as serious as Jinyoung was able to make jokes, so a laugh breaks out of him, though he feels like all his muscles are so tense he can barely move. “That thought didn’t cross my mind. I’m just afraid to … touch anything in here.” He swallows. “And I don’t really like car rides.” That’s the biggest understatement of the century.

He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, he does his best to focus on something else, anything. He notices how well this car fits, how much it looks like Jinyoung’s car from the first impression he had of him. Not that he knows the other that well, but every time they’ve met so far, Jinyoung looked collected, clothes well put together, had that business attitude that’s probably normal for a business man. His car looks just like him, in a way: it looks extremely clean and organized. There’s nothing dangling from the rear view mirror, not even the trace of a fingerprint on any of the surfaces. It looks like he bought it just now.

“Don’t worry, it’s not a long drive there.” Yugyeom doesn’t want to constantly judge Jinyoung by their first encounter, but he can’t help feeling surprised by how different his personality seems to be from the rude part of it he showed Yugyeom two weeks ago. He seems like someone completely different today – except for the frown, of course.

“As long as I don’t have to drive.” The words are out before Yugyeom can hold them back, and he bites down on the inside of his cheek. Jinyoung doesn’t seem to notice, but he clutches his jacket and closes his eyes as Jinyoung starts the engine and pulls out of the parking space.

“So I suppose you don’t have a car?” Jinyoung asks and looks over his shoulder as he drives along the empty rows of parking spaces and out of the car park.

Yugyeom shakes his head, leaning back further into the seat, until he notices Jinyoung won’t be able to see it. When he turns his head, he can see Jinyoung’s profile, his eyes on the road, a drop of water running down a strand of hair and then down his neck, leaving a wet trace. His fingers twitch. “No, I don’t,” he answers, closing his eyes. Jinyoung won’t see that his eyes are shut, and it’s easier for him that way. Maybe he can forget he’s in a car, and his heartbeat can calm down, and his hands can stop shaking.

Jinyoung’s car smells like lemon and bubblegum, a strange combination, but calming in a way. The moment a thought passes Yugyeom’s mind, it’s Jinyoung who says it out loud.

“Is this awkward?” he asks and Yugyeom is taken aback by his bluntness for a moment. “It hope it isn’t. I’m not spontaneous at all normally, so it feels unusual.”

“Me neither,” Yugyeom answers with a small smile, though it quickly vanishes as he hears another car drive by. They have been driving for maybe two or three minutes, and he can’t see where they are going with closed eyes; Jinyoung could really kidnap him right now and he wouldn’t even notice. Maybe that’s why it isn’t awkward, because it feels familiar, although they are strangers. “Thank you for asking me, though – it’s the best thing that’s happened all day.”

“Glad I could pay you back a bit. The last time I had a really bad day there was a sales assistant that was really considerate and helped me, even though I was more rude than necessary.”

Yugyeom can feel a blush spreading on his cheeks, and he asks himself how Jinyoung can sound so nonchalant. It does sound different than his neutral tone, but Yugyeom doesn’t know him well enough to read him. He wants to open his eyes to see if Jinyoung is smiling – as he somehow still feels the urge to see it -, but decides against it. He’s still too afraid to open his eyes.

“Hopefully your day today was better.” Yugyeom can feel the car turning, left and then right.

“It was okay.” The car slows down and Yugyeom prays the ride is almost over. “I was prepared for a night of work, so this is a welcome change of plans.” The car stops and he can hear Jinyoung turn off the engine. “We’re there, have you –“

He stops as Yugyeom opens his eyes, and when Yugyeom turns his head, Jinyoung is looking at him. “Are you afraid of car rides?” he asks directly.

“No.” Liar. “I’m just really tired.” He hopes Jinyoung didn’t see the way he was pressing his hands between his knees. It’s too much to explain, all of it.

“Have you ever been here?” Jinyoung asks when they get out of the car and start walking towards the restaurant. It looks huge from outside, and Yugyeom recognizes it by the big red sign above the front door. _La Piazza._

“Not yet,” Yugyeom answers, blinking as the bright light coming from inside the restaurant blinds him for a moment. “But I live just two streets away, I see it on my way to work every morning.”

“Then it’s time you try it out,” Jinyoung says, holding the door open for Yugyeom as he’s the first to reach it. “It’s one of the best in town.”

It always looked incredibly expensive to Yugyeom, and that impression doesn’t change when entering the restaurant. Only half of the tables or less are still occupied considering the late hour; Yugyeom can see men in suits and women in dresses everywhere, and suddenly feels very out of place wearing a sweater and plain jeans.

A waiter comes up to them and leads them to one of the tables in a corner. There’s dark wood and a lot of red fabric everywhere and it’s so pretty Yugyeom can only look around in disbelief. Ivy is draped over walls and the ceiling, and it feels like standing in a jungle in some kind of way. He feels himself calm down from the adrenaline rush caused by the car ride, and hurries to sit down opposite to Jinyoung. When he stood up this morning, he was sure this was going to be the second worst day of the year, but now, with Jinyoung’s company, he actually feels comfortable in his own skin.

“We come here often with collegues,” Jinyoung explains and Yugyeom doesn’t need much fantasy to imagine Jinyoung at a business dinner. Suddenly he feels very small.

“Where are you working?” he asks, even though he does know. He wants to hear it from Jinyoung somehow, wants to get to know him. Jinyoung is mysterious to Yugyeom in a way, he realized, probably because of the contrast of their first meeting to where they are right now, in a restaurant together, talking about this and that.

“JSP.” Jinyoung seems reluctant to meet Yugyeom’s eyes. It’s the first time Yugyeom feels like the confident exterior Jinyoung has cracks a little bit. But it’s back a second later. “I suppose you know the company?”

“Of course.” Yugyeom smiles. “My collegue is all about your new girl group.”

Jinyoung nods. “Well, he’s not the only one.” He looks tired for a second, reaches up to loosen his tie. “Let’s talk about something else. What about you? I mean, I know where you work but how is it? Do you like the job?”

Yugyeom doesn’t know why he’s so happy Jinyoung shows interest in topics concerning his life, as it’s probably just some small talk over dinner so things don’t get awkward, but he can’t change the warm feeling in his chest. “I love it, actually.” His face lights up. “It’s the best job I’ve had so far. I don’t get tired of it, even though I spend most of my time there, because there’s always something new to do, new customers and new deliveries and such …” He shuts up, cursing himself for ranting too much.

But Jinyoung doesn’t look annoyed. His frown has almost disappeared, and Yugyeom blinks. “How old are you that you’ve already had several jobs?”

“Twenty-one,” Yugyeom answers.

Jinyoung nods. “I already thought you looked younger than me.”

“How old are you?” Yugyeom turns the question back at him and Jinyoung answers: “Twenty-four. Still, twenty-one is really young. Most of people your age are in college.” He seems to be asking Yugyeom an indirect question and Yugyeom responds with the first thought that crosses his mind.

“Well, I am … not.” He smiles awkwardly, quickly trying to turn the topic back to his jobs or anything that won’t let him enter the subject matter of college further. “I’ve been working for three years. I worked at a café, in an office, as a photography assistant, delivery boy, temporary helper in a supermarket …” He laughs. “A lot of jobs.”

Jinyoung looks impressed. “That’s a lot. And you didn’t like your prior jobs?”

Yugyeom shakes his head. “No, I liked them. It was rather the salary that was a problem …” He clears his throat. He didn’t want to step into this territory, it feels so wrong talking about his financial problems while facing someone who probably has enough money to pay his monthly rent ten times or more without batting an eyelash. “So I quit. Except for the café one, that one I actually would’ve liked to continue.”

Jinyoung focuses on his last statement. Yugyeom’s glad. “Why didn’t you?”

Yugyeom shrugs and has to hide half a smile as he looks at his hands in his lap. “I was fired. Spilt coffee over customers too many times.”

He hears Jinyoung breathe out and looks up, not expecting what he sees. The frown is gone and it looks like a smile is tugging at the corners of Jinyoung’s mouth. Yugyeom can’t tear his eyes away from it, and so he keeps staring, blatantly, until the waitress comes up to them and hands them the menu, simutaneously asking them for drinks.

Jinyoung looks at him questioningly, and God, Yugyeom has no idea what people drink in such a fancy restaurant. Is it even okay to order a coke here? He hopes it is, because he does. The waitress smiles, and Yugyeom just hopes she’s not laughing about him on the inside. Surprisingly, Jinyoung orders the same without a comment.

“At least that cannot happen in a candy shop,” Jinyoung says calmly and Yugyeom laughs, wholeheartedly. He feels strange, feels like it’s a dream that he’s so happy now, today of all days. With Jinyoung, who was supposed to hate him, who seemed like he hated everyone when they first met. But Jinyoung seems to have smiled just now and Yugyeom suddenly feels like the most unusual of things could happen today.

“Thank you for asking me,” he says all of a sudden and Jinyoung looks up, surprised. “It’s nice talking to you.”

Yugyeom has these moments, these moments in which he thinks too slowly and talks too fast, and this is one of them. It rarely happens nowadays, because he doesn’t have a relationship close enough with anyone to have conversations about things that could lead to him saying embarrassing stuff too fast and without much thought, except for his relationship with Bambam, Jackson or Mark sometimes. Lollipop couldn’t care less about his rants, and then, there isn’t anyone else in his life.

Yugyeom is reminded of how special it is to eat dinner with someone else instead of a unoccupied chair next to him, and he feels simutaneously happy and sad.

“Same goes for talking to you.” It’s back, the tugging on his lips. “It’s been pretty long since I’ve had dinner without talking about anything concerning business.”

“Well, I’m the perfect company then,” Yugyeom beams. “I have no idea about business.”

Talking with Jinyoung is easy. It’s like a flowing river, warm water running over stones and moss. It’s interesting, hearing what Jinyoung has to say about such trivial things as work or daily life, or even food. When Yugyeom opens the menu and his eyes scam the different dishes, his heart almost stops in his chest, not because of the pasta or pizza that sounds delicious, but because of the prices. He struggled a lot in the past years with money and still does, if he’s honest, and suddenly he remembers why it is he never goes out to eat.

“The Penne Arrabiata are really good here,” Jinyoung says and looks up, apparently noticing Yugyeom’s shocked expression. “Don’t worry, just pick anything you want.”

“Um, I …” Yugyeom has no idea how to start this. “Actually –“ _I’m not that hungry_ would’ve been a lie, and Jinyoung saves him from it.

“It’s on me,” he says without hesitation and Yugyeom immediately interjects.

“No, no!” he hurries to exclaim, almost dropping his menu from leaning forward so fast. “No, absolutely not, I can’t –“

“That’s out of question.” Jinyoung looks up and has that scolding look in his eyes that reminds Yugyeom of fingers tapping against a countertop. “I literally dragged you in here, I won’t let you pay. Also, I’m older anyways.”

 _We don’t even know each other that well,_ Yugyeom wants to say, but is interrupted by the waitress. He chooses the least expensive dish and reminds himself of how he was taught to accept gifts. It just makes people feel bad to reject them.

“What are you doing this weekend?” Jinyoung asks as Yugyeom is taking a sip of his coke. He didn’t know a soft drink could taste expensive. He gains knowledge daily, he supposes.

“Nothing spectacular,” he says and wants to continue his text, but something holds him back. Usually, he says all the same things with different words to the others when they ask him about his weekend, tries to hide the fact he never does anything. It’s like he has a ton of dialogues in his head that he just has to pick one from, and if he changes them often enough, no one will notice. This is the first time in an awfully long time he wants to be really honest, and spill his heart. Not that he will, though. But he notices the urge and something in his chest tightens up at the thought. “It’s been an exhausting week, so after work tomorrow I just plan on sleeping and playing with Lollipop.”

“Lollipop?” Jinyoung asks and Yugyeom quickly explains: “My cat.”

“Oh, I love cats.” He says it so sincerely, and Yugyeom can see his eyes shine. Jinyoung surprises him in so many more ways that he would have been able to guess. He wants to laugh about himself, how he was so intimidated by him at first, though Jinyoung definitely has that authorative aura about him. Yugyeom has never been friends with someone that looks so serious. All his past friends were clumsy and kind of crazy and even though Jinyoung is so different, he makes him notice how much he missed having someone to talk to.

They talk about the weather and the instrumental music that is playing in the background and even that is as easy as waterdrops running down skin and dripping off fingertips. Jinyoung’s hair has dried and he takes off his suit jacket before their food arrives.

“Wow.” The plate looks delicious and Yugyeom can’t hold back his obvious astonishment. The smile is reaching up to Jinyoung’s eyes, even though it is small. Yugyeom feels strangely proud every time Jinyoung smiles.

“I don’t eat out often,” he admits upon meeting Jinyoung’s eyes as he reaches for the fork. “To be honest, I survive on ramyeon and chocolate milkshakes.”

“Chocolate milkshakes?” Jinyoung raises his eyebrows, but then nods. “I suppose I should have figured you liked sweet things from you working in a candy shop.”

“Oh, that’s not a given.” Yugyeom laughs. “Mark sometimes says he can’t eat any sugar anymore when he comes home after a day of work because the smell is stuck in his airways like sirup.”

“I don’t really like sweets that much either.” Jinyoung sounds almost apologetic. “Cake is nice, and cookies too, but I’m not the chocolate and candy type.”

As they eat, Yugyeom has to think of the boxes of chocolates Jinyoung bought. Of course, it was obvious he was buying them for someone else from what he said, but that statement only confirms the presumption. Yugyeom thinks about asking him who they were for, but then, Jinyoung’s already talking about something else and something tells Yugyeom not to ask anyway, strangely enough.

“Do you have a photo of Lollipop?” Jinyoung asks after a while of quiet eating and Yugyeom would laugh if it wasn’t so adorable.

“I have a whole folder,” he admits with a sheepish smile.

He shows Jinyoung pictures of Lollipop doing all different kinds of things – she’s quite a model, honestly -, and Yugyeom can’t remember the last time he felt so at ease. Jinyoung is a good listener, patient and interested and Yugyeom for once feels like he is not wasting someone’s time talking about the silly things Lollipop does. Jinyoung smiles a few times, a small smile raising the corners of his mouth and making his eyes crinkle the slightest and it always send a rush through Yugyeom.

He’s almost sad when he’s finished eating, because his taste buds still tingle from how delicious it was. He can’t cook like a master chef, but he also won’t burn the kitchen down trying to make himself something to eat, so he deems his cooking acceptable. This was something different, though. Of course.

He excuses himself to the toilet and goes to look for it. How even a toilet can look this expensive is out of his ability of understanding. They have small towels for each person to use one, and even those little things get him excited. When he raises his glance in the mirror, he almost stumbles back in surprise. He hasn’t looked at himself all day, but he looks better than he thought he would after that horrible night. It’s like his eye bags disappeared magically, and he supposes it’s Jinyoung’s doing. He’s really saved Yugyeom from spending another lonely evening in his apartment, hasn’t he? Probably one of the worst ones. On one of the days that are supposed to be happy ones.

When he comes back, there are even less people in the restaurant than before, he notices. Surely it’s after midnight already. The restaurant will soon close. The waitress has already taken their empty plates and Jinyoung is focused on his hands on the table, looking like he’s deep in thought over something. When Yugyeom sits down on his seat again, he raises his head and sends him a small smile that makes Yugyeom’s fingertips tingle. “They’re closing soon. I already paid while you were away.”

Yugyeom fumbles with his fingers beneath the table. “Thank you,” he says and sends Jinyoung a blinding smile.

“Were you at work the whole day today?” Jinyoung suddenly asks and although Yugyeom is a bit confused about the question out of the blue, he nods as his eyes fall onto his phone. He left it laying on the table after showing Jinyoung photos of his cat, and it’s so rare that he gets a message that his glance immediately catches onto the blinking LED indicating a notification. It makes him curious to see who would text him at this hour, as it probably won’t be one of his collegues, but he won’t look at it until he’s home, he decides. Everything else would just be rude.

“I’m at work from eight to ten most of the days,” Yugyeom admits with a shy smile. “I really love the job.” He probably doesn’t have to tell Jinyoung it’s because of the money, too, for him to be able to guess.

Jinyoung nods, seems to be contemplating about something. “Let’s go?” he then asks.

They put on their jackets before leaving the restaurant and stepping out into the cold night. The snow on the ground has frozen and Yugyeom makes a mental note to walk carefully in order not to slip. The air sets his airways on fire, but it feels like waking up. In the restaurant, it was hot in contrast to out here, and Yugyeom likes the prickling on his skin. It’s stopped snowing and it feels calm.

“I can just walk home from here,” Yugyeom says before Jinyoung can even think about mentioning a car. He’s faced a fear today, it’s enough for a whole life, he decides. “It’s not far.”

Jinyoung puts his hands into the pockets of his jacket and answers: “I’ll walk with you. I like the smell in the air after it has snowed, and I haven’t been out this late at night for weeks.”

Yugyeom can’t hide his smile. Being around Jinyoung is light, easy, and he actually feels like they have become friends in these short few hours spent together. He can’t thank the universe enough that it snowed tonight.

They take the route through a lot of little streets. Yugyeom’s living closer to the city centre than his wallet probably appreciates, but it’s the only way to ensure he’s able to come to work every day. Neither does he own a car nor enough money to pay for expensive public transport, so walking is the only option.

“Are you gonna go to sleep right now?” Jinyoung asks and Yugyeom almost frowns because it is such an odd question.

He shrugs and tilts his head. “I suppose. Why are you asking?” he responds curiously.

Jinyoung smiles halfheartedly. He’s smiled a lot of times this evening and every single time made Yugyeom bubble with happiness, but this time it seems forced. “No special reason.”

No one’s in the streets at this hour. It’s beautifully quiet and Yugyeom thinks they’re going to make it to his apartment without anything other than a few whispered words in the night air.

That is until he slips on ice and almost crashes onto the ground.

He tumbles over and manages to regain his balance, but Jinyoung is already reaching for his arm in an attentive manner, trying to help him get up again.

“It’s fine,” he laughs, breath white in the air, even though he struggles to stand straight. Jinyoung’s grip loosens and he wants to respond with a “I’m glad” apparently, but doesn’t get to finish the second word before he takes a step forward and his feet slide away from under his body.

He lets out a surprised sound and falls backwards and Yugyeom leans forward and gets his hand on his shoulder and clings onto him while Jinyoung tries to get a grip on his legs again. He turns his head, looks at Yugyeom with wide, surprised eyes and the hint of a smile and wants to say something else. But Yugyeom’s already trying to get closer to help him and slips on a particular icey part of the street and screams, crashes into Jinyoung and sends both of them to the ground.

They stumble over each other, trying to cling onto each others arms, but to no avail. They are barely able to stand and Yugyeom’s says: “Wait, wait, we need to—“, but he can hardly talk because he’s laughing so hard. He thinks he’s standing solidly enough to attempt getting up once more, but only manages to knock both of them over a second time as their feet slide and slide further away from beneath them. He’s clinging onto Jinyoung’s jacket out of instinct when he hears it.

Jinyoung’s laughing. He’s laughing wholeheartedly, a pure and lovely sound, and Yugyeom lets go of his jacket in shock, but Jinyoung reaches out and holds him up while laughing, mouth open and eyes almost closed and body shaking with joy.

Yugyeom’s feet stand still as he looks at him. He knew Jinyoung was handsome, it wasn’t something to overlook, to miss out on, but when he laughs, he’s something ethereal. He looks beautiful, shining like that, Yugyeom thinks one second and in the next one they are already laying on the ground again.

They are both laughing and Yugyeom’s heart is light. “We should“, Jinyoung gasps for air, “try to get over there.” He takes a shaky breath. “It looks like there’s less ice over there.”

Somehow, they manage to get to the sidewalk at the end of the street, just a corner away from Yugyeom’s apartment complex, without falling down again. The last few meters they are so occupied with catching their breaths that Yugyeom almost walks past the door without noticing, and stops in the last second.

“It’s this one,” he still smiles and Jinyoung takes a step back to look up at the building. It’s not the newest, all the stairways and walls are made out of wood, but Yugyeom loves that especially.

“It looks cozy,” Jinyoung says and that’s what it is.

Yugyeom knows he has to say goodbye, but some part of him is reluctant to do so. He had the nicest evening in months, years maybe. Yet he doesn’t know what to say to Jinyoung to thank him.

“I should get going,” Jinyoung says. “It’s getting late and I have a meeting tomorrow morning.”

“See you around, I guess.” Yugyeom’s mind substitutes the ‘guess’ with ‘hope’.

Jinyoung smiles and nods. He looks like he still wants to say something. “Good night, Yugyeom.”

“Hyung.” Yugyeom moves his fingers inside his pockets as Jinyoung’s eyes meet his, a warm expression on his face. “You should laugh more often.”

Jinyoung seems surprised for a moment, before his lips change into a sincere smile. “I guess I should.” He looks at the ground before raising his eyes again. “Thank you for the nice evening.”

“No, thank _you._ ” Yugyeom plays with the keys between his fingers. “Drive safely. And … good night.”

He smiles at him once more before turning around, unlocking the door and stepping inside. When he looks back, Jinyoung’s still standing there, and he waves before climbing up the stairs to the seventh floor.

Lollipop seems to be sleeping. The apartment is dark and silent. Only when he closes his front door behind him does he notice how soaked his jacket and pants are from the snow and ice they fell onto. Still, he can’t hinder a smile spreading on his lips. He couldn’t really tell Jinyoung, but that was one of the nicest 17th of Decembers he’d ever had.

He takes off his jacket and pours himself a glass of orange juice in the kitchen. The LED on his phone is still blinking and he remembers the mysterious notification he wanted to look at. Leaning against the edge of the counter, he opens the message.

**_From: Jae_ **

**_Yugyeom!! I can’t believe I almost forgot! And I can’t believe how long we haven’t talked … feels like an eternity. I really wanna catch up with you, let’s meet for a coffee, yeah?_ **

**_Happy Birthday. I know you don’t like congratulations, and I bet you haven’t changed this much in the last year and still don’t tell people about your birthday. But nonetheless, Happy Birthday from me, Yugyeom. I hope you had a nice day. Let me know how you are, okay?_ **

Yugyeom’s heart beats in his chest, a warm feeling spreading. He and Jaebum haven’t talked for so long, it feels like a whole life has passed since their last proper conversation. It’s his fault, and he knows it, but he still feels so sad about it. He’ll text him back. He’ll text him back tomorrow.

He’s almost about to put his phone away again when he remembers Jinyoung’s expression when he returned to the table earlier. He knows his notifications show up on his lockscreen, and that the screen lights up when he receives a new message. Could Jinyoung …?

Yugyeom closes his eyes, laying the phone down on the table. Of course. That’s why he asked all those strange questions. No normal person would spend their birthday working all day and then going straight home to sleep. Jinyoung had seen the message and realized it was his birthday and probably not said anything to be considerate. After all Yugyeom hadn’t said a word about it himself.

Yugyeom feels worry bloom in his chest; what will Jinyoung think of him? Most likely the truth. He doesn’t have anybody to celebrate with. But then, it’s also not a day to celebrate. Has been at one point, but not anymore.

He doesn’t want Jinyoung to think he’s strange, somehow.

There’s the light of the headlights of one car on his ceiling as he tries to fall asleep, and he imagines it’s Jinyoung, and that’s he’s smiling thinking about the evening him and Yugyeom spent together. Yugyeom does.

This morning he thought the nightmares of the last night wouldn’t let him sleep, but with Jinyoung’s calming smile on his mind, it’s surprisingly easy.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I allowed myself to change Yugyeom's birthday from November to December. I hope you don't mind too much! It was necessary for the plot ~ <3


	3. A Spark Behind A Wall Of Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies!
> 
> I've survived the January exam season and am back with more ideas and inspiration than ever! <3
> 
> Thank you once more for your lovely comments on the last chapter. As this story is titled Bittersweet, it's predictable that every ounce of sugar will be followed by a bit of bitterness, and the first spark of angst might not be too far ... 
> 
> I am happy to finally be able to update again, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> Love,  
> Aki
> 
> PS: Happy belated birthday to my lovely Juli once more! As I am now on holidays you will have to travel four hours to find me and punish me for eventual angst ... so I might as well use the next month well, hehe. <3

Yugyeom notices he’s forgotten his umbrella in Jinyoung’s car on Saturday morning.

It’s not raining hard, more like the snowy kind of gentle rain as he gets ready to leave for work, but the empty space next to his door where his umbrella would usually be waiting for him to be picked up is more than obvious. Lollipop is crawling around his legs and promptly decides to lay down on the spot, purring like that place belonged to her since the beginning of time. Yugyeom rolls his eyes.

Saturdays are relaxing, because it’s the only day he comes in at ten instead of eight. Bambam’s already there when he steps through the door, running his fingers through his damp hair. He can only hope the weather later will be better than the day before, or else he will have to walk through the same snowstorm as yesterday, just without a shelter this time. He thinks of Jinyoung and smiles – at least he will have an umbrella today. Yugyeom should be grateful for his own inability to remember things.

“So happy on a Saturday morning?” Bambam chirps, leaning around a shelf. Yugyeom flinches, and then has to laugh about his own jumpiness.

“I guess,” he answers, though it’s painfully clear he’s in a better mood than any other Saturday. Not that Yugyeom is ever in a bad mood – even on his worst days, namely yesterday, he manages to keep a smile on his lips. However, this is something else. Today, he’s shining, and it feels like there is a giant sun placed right above his head that will keep him warm during wind and snow.

“Did something good happen?” Bambam raises his eyebrows and consequently also his arms to point the mop he’s using to clean the floor with at Yugyeom. “Or should I say … someone good?”

Yugyeom is genuinely confused to why Bambam would expect him to meet up with anyone, until he recalls there’s probably no one that knows the exact extent of his solitary life. It’s his fault; after all he always talks around it when being asked about plans and such. On one hand because it’s embarrassing to admit he’s neither got friends nor any specific hobbies, and on the other hand because he doesn’t want anybody to feel like they have to befriend him out of solidarity. Especially not Bambam. He’s way too nice to be used like that.

So Yugyeom almost shakes his head, before Jinyoung crashes his thoughts and he finds the corners of his lips raising to yet another smile. Maybe it’s because Jinyoung asked him voluntarily and deliberately, because they had such an easy conversation or because it filled Yugyeom with pride to see Jinyoung laugh, but Yugyeom’s sure he’s the reason for the sudden rise of mood. Yugyeom’s life is a line like a tightly drawn string, and it’s rare that someone manages to cause a little wave in the static. He couldn’t be more grateful.

“The latter,” he answers, not missing Bambam’s look of surprise and excitement and the poor bucket full of water that is almost knocked over as Bambam screeches: “A date?”

Yugyeom can feel himself flushing. He hadn’t thought about it in that way, and surely Jinyoung hadn’t either. He feels a wave of guilt for even causing the image of a date. Shaking his head and making wild hand gestures, he hurries to explain: “No, no! Not a date. Just a … hangout.”

Bambam doesn’t look convinced, so Yugyeom explains: “Really, I was just eating dinner with a friend.”

He contemplates if he should tell Bambam who this friend is. Surely he will know Jinyoung. He remembers the names of the members of a band consisting of about twenty people and can identify them by their ears, so it would be stupid to assume he doesn’t know the CEO of one of the companies responsible for these groups.

But then he’d have to explain how he met Jinyoung and why they are even friends, if they are, and why Jinyoung asked him to eat dinner together, and why a man like him would even talk with someone like Yugyeom. Yugyeom himself doesn’t even know the answer to that last question. Maybe Bambam wouldn’t even believe him. Yugyeom knows he can trust Bambam, he’s one of the nicest people he’s ever known, but what happened yesterday night still feels like a dream; so fragile it might break with the tiniest bit of force. Yugyeom wants to protect it, to keep it dear and remember it happily.

“That has got to be a really special friend then, for you to smile like this because of them even today,” Bambam answers with true happiness and continues swiping the floor, or basically flooding the whole shop.

Yugyeom smiles. “Yeah,” he mumbles more to himself than to anyone else, “Really special.”

It’s not a surprise his good mood holds up for the rest of the morning. Compared to yesterday, he feels almost as light as a feather, like an immense weight has been taken off his shoulders. He slept well last night, fell asleep immediately, and therefore is rested and full of energy. He hums the tunes of the Christmas songs playing, wipes the shelf boards with the enthusiasm of a person that absolutely loves cleaning furniture, which he usually doesn’t, and gives every child that enters the shop with their parents more free candy than he probably should as he notices a few hours later as he is getting ready for his lunch break, considering the candy jar on the countertop is almost empty.

“I’ll go eat lunch,” he lets Bambam know after he’s filled the jar up again, and Bambam nods, occupied with copying the new delivery schedule for the holidays into an excel document on their computer. When Yugyeom started working at Cotton Candy, he had no idea how the program worked, but thankfully the technical genius, also known as Mark, had already been present back then to show and explain him. It’s still not his favourite pastime though, so Bambam generously offers to do it whenever it’s his shift.

Lunch isn’t a problem for Yugyeom. He never has to choose. The cupboard does it for him. The second to last compartment of the cupboard above the table right next to the refrigerator in the back room, to be exact. They each own a compartment where they can store their food and personal belongings, and Yugyeom’s compartment is always the fullest, because it’s stuffed with instant ramyeon. He has spicy ramyeon, seafood ramyeon, kimchi ramyeon, basically every type of ramyeon the supermarket offers. The other three compartments are empty most of the time – Bambam often buys himself something small because he’s too lazy to take food with him, and Jackson and Mark are responsible enough to prepare something they store in the refrigerator.

Yugyeom’s in the mood for kimchi ramyeon today, he decides. He sets up some water to boil in the water heater and puts powder and vegetables over the noodles. It’s only when he moves to his right to get a bottle of water out of the refrigerator that he does notice the piece of paper stuck onto the side of it.

He furrows his eyebrows, leaning closer to read the neat letters. Normally a note on the side of the refrigerator means important information; otherwise it would be stuck to the front with all of the other little scraps covering almost the entire metallic surface.

_Looking for a Scholarship?_ Yugyeom reads the headline. It’s written in orange, as to attract a lot of attention at first glance. In the top right corner, there is the outline of what looks like a person dancing.

Before he can get more into it, Bambam slips inside the room, stretching his arms above his head and sighing. “Saturdays are nice and all, but these children, seriously …” He stops when he sees Yugyeom looking at the flyer, and a big smile forms itself on his face. “Oh, you saw it already!”

“What is that?” Yugyeom asks, turning around instead of reading the rest of the text that’s printed on it.

Bambam gets himself bottle of water out of the refrigerator and leans against it, taking a sip. “An application form for a scholarship.” He reaches for the flyer, taking it and turning it around before handing it to Yugyeom. The back of it is a form for name, address, email and a lot of other requested information about the applicant.

“Do you want a scholarship?” Yugyeom’s confused. He thought Bambam was doing well financially. Well, not that they’ve talked about it in depth, but Yugyeom knows he’d be able to cope even without this job. But a scholarship is never a bad idea, so maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised.

Bambam rolls his eyes. “As if I could dance. It’s for you.”

Yugyeom leans against the edge of the table, turning the flyer around once more and skimming over the text.

_Looking for a Scholarship?_

_Are you skilled in dancing? Do you have experience in choreography? Are you willing to invest time and effort into becoming a professional choreographer and dancer? Then Seoul Dance Academy is looking for you._

_In cooperation with South Korea’s top entertainment company, Seoul Dance Academy is looking for new talents. The country’s most well-known academy for dance majors offers a full scholarship for four years of combined study and training._

_Studying at one of Korea’s most famous art universities is a path many popular dancers and choreographers have taken on their way to success. Together with JSP Entertainment, who obtains a majority of their trainees and idols from the Academy, Seoul Dance Academy will choose the best dancer to support in his career._

_For more details and information on the application process as well as the selection criteria and requirements, please visit our website or contact us directly via email or call._

_We hope to hear from you!_

On the bottom of the page, email and web address have been written down. The letters seem to blur in front of Yugyeom’s eyes for the fraction of a second, until Bambam continues happily.

“A few months ago, you mentioned you used to study dance but had to quit.” Bambam points at the flyer. “I saw this yesterday in one of those magazines I read and thought of you. “

Yugyeom feels like he’s frozen, a bit like that time he forgot his jacket and by the time he was home, his fingers were tinted blue like ink had leaked out of a pen onto them. It’s a weird feeling inside his chest, like something is pushing all his insides together. Like there’s too much pressure in such a small space.

He doesn’t know what to say or how to react at all, so he’s thankful when he hears the bell over the entrance door ring. Bambam looks up, shoots him an apologetic smile and places the water bottle on the table before leaving to help the customers.

Yugyeom stares at the flyer for another few seconds before putting it back. The water heater has stopped making noise, so the water should be boiling. He looks at the ramyeon, ready to be cooked, takes it and places it back in the cupboard, leaving the water to cool down.

If Bambam notices his strange behaviour for the rest of the day, he doesn’t say anything about it. After lunch, the customers are coming in waves, almost too many to handle. The closer to Christmas, the more desperate people grow to find presents. Even though they are more exhausting, Yugyeom prefers picky customers over the ones who just don’t care at all. He can’t avoid the bitter taste on his tongue whenever he asks someone what they are looking for and they answer: _Anything that counts as a present, it’s not important what it is._

When the rush is over and it’s pitch black outside, Bambam is getting his coat from the back room while Yugyeom puts some candy selections back to where he took them from to show them to customers. He actually flinches in surprise when, without the foreshadowing of footsteps or such, Bambam behind him says: “I didn’t want to pressure you into having to apply there or anything.”

Yugyeom turns around, a smile on his lips. “I didn’t think that. Thank you for showing me the flyer, really. And, well, remembering what I told you so long ago.”

Bambam mirrors the smile. “You’re welcome. I mean, I don’t even know if you still want to do it, but … if you do, it might be worth a shot. Just think about it.”

“I will. Thank you, Bam.”

The night is cold when Yugyeom leaves the shop an hour later. He looks around, unconsciously searching for a familiar figure, but the street is empty. Catching himself, he takes a deep breath and puts his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

The pavement isn’t frozen today like it was yesterday. It’s a bit slippery still, but not so bad that he would trip and fall. When he climbs up the stairs to his apartment and unlocks his door, he is still shivering though.

It’s not like he’s dying from hunger, but there’s an uncomfortable feeling behind his ribs after skipping on lunch. Lollipop curls herself in his lap as he eats, kimchi and some instant soup he had stored in the back of the shelf.

“Dancing, hm?” he asks her and she meows, as if she knows exactly what he means. Of course she does; she’s been with him through it all.

“It’s not his fault, of course,” Yugyeom mumbles. “I never told him why. He must think it’s because of the money.” He has to smile. “Well, he’s not wrong. But …”

He doesn’t have to say it. He doesn’t think he could, anyways. His eyes dart up towards his bedroom, to the shelf where the picture frames are placed.

He’s never really talked to anyone about it. Sometimes he doubts he will. His phone is lying on the table like a reminder of a text message he hasn’t answered. But it would be like ripping a Band-Aid of a wound that hasn’t healed yet, and Yugyeom’s not ready for it.

Lollipop curls into his hold, and Yugyeom clings onto her. The heater is on, but tonight, the apartment is cold and silent.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Yugyeom is a selfish person.

He knows he shouldn’t hope for Jinyoung to show up at Cotton Candy again. It would most likely mean there is yet another box of chocolates to be bought as an apology, one just like the ones he bought the last two times he entered the shop.

As long as Jinyoung doesn’t show up, it means there is no apology to be made, no apology to whoever Yugyeom doesn’t even know, but who has to play an important part in Jinyoung’s life for him to be so stressed about buying a present like he was the first time they met. It means Yugyeom should be happy things are going well for him.

Yet, he catches himself wishing Jinyoung will show up on Monday.

It’s strange. Yugyeom has never had the urge to see anyone. It’s nice to have company, of course, but usually, he’s content with his nights watching TV or dramas on his phone, reading or just listening to music while staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. This weekend is different. The silence seems quieter, and he wonders if it really is so easy to become used to not being alone just from eating dinner with someone else once.

Maybe it’s because he feels lonely, even between all of those people, between customers and strangers and faces on TV, whereas with Jinyoung, he felt like someone was truly interested in him as a person, in his life and in how he’s doing. He can’t really explain it, but it’s a horrible thought, selfish and narcissistic.

Humans want others to show interest in them; humans are truly selfish beings.

Yugyeom’s Sunday is a constant push and pull between reassuring himself that it’s okay he wants to see Jinyoung again and scolding himself for being either so conceited as to think Jinyoung would visit the shop only to talk to Yugyeom again or so selfish as to hope there’s another reason for him to show up once more.

And in between all those thoughts, swirling around in his head like a never-ending whirl of water, there is the nagging picture of the application form that Bambam showed him, that’s stuck onto the side of the refrigerator and that scratches on his spine like long, cold fingers and reminds him of everything he used to love.

He doesn’t know if he hoped for the flyer to be gone, but it’s still there on Monday morning. Jackson doesn’t notice it when he rants about his weekend, and Yugyeom manages to ignore it until his lunch break. It’s when he prepares yet another cup of ramyeon that his eyes are once more drawn to the orange letters, and with a quick hand gesture, he takes the flyer and puts it into his compartment of the cupboard.

With every ring of the bell above the door, he unconsciously hopes it’s a familiar face he’ll see, and the emotion is immediately followed by guilt and disappointment. He’s glad he hasn’t told Bambam or anyone else about his acquaintance; it would’ve been embarrassing to admit it was probably just a one-time dinner because Jinyoung had no one else to eat out with that made Yugyeom so happy. Yugyeom can only blame himself for feeling so strongly about some company after not having had dinner with someone in at least a year.

So he shouldn’t feel sad he doesn’t meet Jinyoung today, the man he had actually hoped he wouldn’t see again too soon after their very first encounter, but control about his feelings is something Yugyeom has yet to achieve.

Later, when Jackson has gone home, he’s alone and it’s dark outside, no one in sight and the playlist at its end, his thoughts stray back to the flyer placed in the cupboard.

He hasn’t even thought about dancing in a long time. Like a habit he taught himself to follow, he hasn’t danced in what feels like an eternity and could easily be one. It’s a desire buried deep under guilt and regret, fear and panic and it feels like a newly lightened flame that once used to be a fire.

He knows it’s a bad idea, knows it’s a really, really horrible idea. You put sand over fire and kill it with water to stop it from burning down things that are precious to you and keep yourself from getting hurt, yet all he’s doing now is pouring petrol onto a spark.

His fingers move like they have a will of their own. Without his control, they open a new tab on the web browser and look for one of the many songs he hasn’t forgotten in so long. It’s soft, like satin, flowing through the speakers like hands that are holding him and pulling him in their direction. It feels like coming home after travelling for an awfully long time.

He’s alone. No one will notice. No one will ask him why he’s doing this, why he feels like he’s still allowed to after all that happened. Maybe that’s what gets him to move, to let his hands leave the reassuring cold of the countertop, to let his body be guided by the music and spun around itself until the shop, the shelves and the lights are one blurry image.

He closes his eyes, listens to the tunes. His body feels like it’s covered in dust, like it’s been stored in a room that’s been locked without windows and fresh air. Like his joints need to remember how it felt to move, to live. To dance.

His body is moving on its own. It’s like remembering the lyrics to an old song, easier than it should be, than it was ever supposed to be. The music is floating and erasing any gravity that might have been holding him down.

The intensity of the song rises, until it’s at its peak. His body drops and is picked up again, muscles pulling and pushing, like a tidal wave rising and sinking under the power of the moon. The water washes over him and moves his limbs like the ones of a new-born who has yet to learn how to breathe.

And then it slows down, and he does too, swaying like the world is shaking and coming to a stop in the middle of all of its chaos. He feels his heart beating in his chest like a bird locked in a cage, and reaches up with trembling fingers.

He missed this so much. But it’s a home he cannot return to.

His fingertips touch something wet and with a stuttering breath he notices he’s crying. His lungs are shaken by the force of sobs as the music stops playing and he’s left with silence.

Unbeknownst to him or anyone else, a pair of eyes is looking at him softly, oblivious to the salty tears as Yugyeom turns his back to the store’s windows and returns to the counter to switch the computer off. But even without this knowledge the moment feels too intimate to interrupt, and so Jinyoung puts his hand into the pocket of his jacket and opens the umbrella as heavy snowflakes start to tumble down the skies.

There’s a small smile on his face as he begins walking down the street; eyes unable to see the way Yugyeom shakily presses the sleeve of his hoodie against his eyes; like a world, separated from the other by a thin wall of glass.

 


	4. Delicate Lines, Warm Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies! <3
> 
> This chapter is a whole ride, so please prepare~ It ended up being pretty long, which I'm glad about because the last chapter was a bit shorter than intended. And we have a lot of Pepigyeom interaction in this one ~  
> I can't wait to show you!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you think, and keep yourself warm during the (hopefully last) cold winter days <3
> 
> Love,  
> Aki
> 
> (@Juli: Have a safe trip and a lot of fun! Love ya! <3)

Yugyeom is not used to waking up to a noise other than his alarm clock. So when he opens his eyes to the sound of a notification coming in, the first thing he does is reach for his phone, and ends up promptly dropping it to the ground.

Lollipop screeches as he slides to the other side of the mattress, attempting to pick up the device by letting the upper half of his body dangle over the edge of the bed, but the only thing he manages to achieve is him falling out of the bed and almost tearing his blanket and, consequently, Lollipop, with him.

He yawns, finally being able to reach it, and rubs his back from where he half-crashed into the bedside table. When he unlocks the screen, there are three new messages.

**_7:02- Boss:_ ** _I had to come in for a delivery today. Mark will be here, too, and you have too many hours of overtime anyways, so no need for you to come in before 11._

**_7:04 - Mark-hyung:_ ** _Get some more sleep! Boss texted me, the deliveries are coming today and he’ll be there. See you later!_

**_7:05 – Mark-hyung:_ ** _Is he … is he an actual person? I’ve seen him maybe once when I was employed haha ^^_

Yugyeom can only smile at the text on the display. It’s surely been more than two months since he’s last seen their boss, too, and for Mark is has to be at least half a year. Others would certainly be glad that their superior is barely present in the shop, and sure, it has got its advantages, like being able to do what they want to do as long as there are no customers and they fulfil their work responsibly, but sometimes Yugyeom thinks it’s a pity he doesn’t have more conversations with his boss. From the little time they’ve spent being in the same room so far, Yugyeom feels like he’s a really nice person.

It would be a good idea to go back to bed, just like Mark advised him to do, but Yugyeom doesn’t feel like he’ll be able to fall asleep again. It took him about two or three hours yesterday evening, and even though that means he’s only gotten half the amount of usual sleep and is exhaustingly tired, everything is better than lying awake in bed, so he decides to get up properly and make himself breakfast that consists of more than just cereal for the first time in weeks.

He contemplates on turning on the radio as he cracks two eggs on the edge of the pan, but they would probably only play music anyways, and that’s something he can very much renounce on right now. The memories of last night are still vivid in his mind, dancing around like flower petals he can’t seem to grasp. It’s not that he regrets dancing, he just feels like not doing it would’ve been a better choice for his psychological well-being. And physical, maybe. As he leans to the right to get the orange juice out of the refrigerator, his back and legs hurt like he’s run a marathon.

He eats breakfast while watching a few episodes of a show on his phone, makes Lollipop something to eat, brushes his teeth and puts on his favourite yellow sweater to help against the hollow feeling in his chest, and is out of the house in time.

Though it’s neither a main nor a very popular street, there are workers outside who are putting up strings of fairy lights between the buildings and on two or three of the small trees that line the pavement. They are shouting orders to each other, laughs and jokes in between, and though it’s not like he has forgotten, Yugyeom again remembers it’s Christmas soon. On Friday, to be even more exact. In three days.

Though people would call him crazy if they knew, he wishes Cotton Candy would be open the whole day. He wishes he would have somewhere to stay that would make it look like it’s any other day. Instead, he’ll be at home, like he isn’t any other Friday.

Maybe, he just doesn’t want to be so alone on a day like that.

“Where is he?” Yugyeom asks when he enters the shop and sees Mark kneeling in front of the counter, putting up flyers with different holiday offers on the white surface.

Mark looks up, a confused look on his face. “Who?”

“The magical fairy that owns this place.” Yugyeom smiles. “The boss.”

Unfortunately, he has already left, which was to be expected, as he never stays any longer than he has to. Yugyeom sometimes asks himself if he owns any other shops, if he’s maybe a really successful business man and they just don’t have any idea. Well, maybe he’ll never find out.

There’s a note on the refrigerator though, as he goes to take off his jacket. It’s a little post-it that says:

_Please put up the sign about Christmas deals in the store windows. It’s behind the door._

_Also: Happy Holidays._

Yugyeom’s halfway through putting the sign up, when Mark shows up behind him, offering his help.

“He exists,” Mark laughs with a big smile as he and Yugyeom switch places, because Yugyeom’s taller and can secure the threads that are holding the sign up in the hooks more easily. “Our boss, I mean. He’s a real, living, breathing person.”

“Did Bambam tell you ghost stories again?” Yugyeom asks with a laugh as he tiptoes to tie the strings together in a knot.

“Well, he _did_ in fact mention that sometimes, when he’s alone here in the morning on Saturday, he feels like someone’s watching him. Like … a ghost hiding in the closet maybe.”

“In the …closet?” Yugyeom asks.

“Hey, I’m not saying the ghost is gay. It might just be a nice corner to, you know, ghost around.”

Yugyeom has a hard time to put up the sign because he’s laughing way too much and can barely continue standing on the tips of his toes, but thankfully they manage to finish the task after calming down. Mark takes a few steps back to look if it’s centered, and almost crashes into the umbrella holder next to the door. He looks down and exclaims: “Oh, I almost forgot!”

Yugyeom raises his glance in time to see Mark reaching for the blue umbrella. He immediately recognizes it as his own. It’s the one he forgot in Jinyoung’s car before the weekend.

Mark answers his unspoken question before he can even ask it. “There was some guy here earlier who said it’s yours. You probably know him. He looked like he was in a hurry, but he left a note for you.”

Yugyeom can’t supress the foreign feeling of happiness. It’s a warmth spreading from the tips of his fingers to somewhere deep inside his chest, and it’s not the first time he’s confused to how someone like Jinyoung, who he barely knows except for a conversation they have shared over dinner, can change his mood so much.

Mark turns around and takes a piece of paper off the counter, handing it to Yugyeom. It’s neatly folded into a square, and Yugyeom would bet a lot of money that it’s not Mark, but Jinyoung who did that. Yes, maybe they don’t know a lot about each other, but Yugyeom’s good at reading people, and everything about Jinyoung, from the way he dresses to the way he talks to the way he keeps his car says _organized_.

Mark isn’t a person to ask questions that he isn’t a hundred percent sure are comfortable for whom he’s asking, but Yugyeom can see he’s curious as to who that guy is that left a note for Yugyeom. And Yugyeom does understand, especially when he unfolds the paper and sees a phone number written on it.

“Did he say something?” Yugyeom asks. He’s wondering whether there is any specific reason Jinyoung left his number, though a small part of him is hoping that he wasn’t the only one who felt like they became friends in such a short amount of time. “He’s … a friend, by the way,” he then explains, and wants to add something, but realizes there’s not that much more to say, anyways.

Mark shakes his head. “No, he just asked if I could give that to you.” He turns around to look at the clock. “He was here just shortly before you came.”

Yugyeom doesn’t know if he should be grateful to not have had the chance to embarrass himself in front of Jinyoung like he tends to always do when people are important to him, or disappointed that he would have seen him again if no deliveries had come in today. But then, his glance falls down on the digits scribbled onto the paper – a neat handwriting just like he expected –, and he smiles.

“Do you mind if I …?” He doesn’t need to end his sentence. Mark shakes his head and his lips curl into a smile. “Go ahead.”

Yugyeom can barely sit still on the red couch. The door is closed and the room is silent. He could call Jinyoung. Or should he rather text him? He’s never felt more conflicted between those two options than right now. He hasn’t been on the phone with anyone in an eternity. When he was younger, he used to love facetiming with Jaebum, but those times are long gone. Maybe he would be too awkward. But then, Jinyoung somehow seems like a person who prefers a call over a text … and before Yugyeom can stop himself he’s already typed in his number and dialled it.

Anxiety is rising inside of him as he hears the line trying to connect. He’s too pushy, isn’t he? He can only guess how much work Jinyoung has to do, how hard he has to work and how little free time he has to have judging by what he knows about his company and what Jinyoung himself told him; probably he won’t even have the time to answer the phone.

But Jinyoung does just that. After what feels like an awful long amount of time, but must have been just a few seconds, he picks up.

_“Park Jinyoung, hello?”_

Yugyeom is so taken aback for a moment that he needs a second to answer. When he does, his voice sounds too high and too rough at the same time. “Hey. Um, it’s Yugyeom.”

_“Oh, Yugyeom, hey.”_ Yugyeom feels like he can hear the little smile out of Jinyoung’s voice that sounded rather busy with his first words. _“How are you?”_

“Ah, I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” He takes a deep breath, willing the nervousness to go away. He doesn’t know why it’s there in the first place. “I came in later today, so I missed you.”

This time he almost stumbles over his words; he knows they bear another meaning than what his brain tells him he just said, but the _I missed you_ still makes his hands shake with embarrassment.

_“It’s no problem.”_ Jinyoung sounds so calm that Yugyeom almost envies him. _“I just noticed we didn’t have any way to contact each other, and you had forgotten your umbrella in my car anyways, so it seemed like a good idea to leave my number.”_

“I … I hope it’s okay I called you.” Yugyeom tries to lean back on the couch and immediately sits up again, shifting and crossing his legs. “Are you busy?”

_“I’m probably always a bit busy. But don’t worry about it. I can easily make time for a phone call.”_

Yugyeom nods, and then says: “Okay. I’m glad.”

Jinyoung doesn’t let the silence last too long, and Yugyeom’s incredibly grateful. _“Are you free tonight?”_

“Free?” Yugyeom stands up, leaning against the edge of the table. “Um, sure. Why?”

_“I should be done with work at 10.”_ It sounds like Jinyoung is typing something on a keyboard. _“I really enjoyed eating dinner with you last week, so I wanted to ask if you’d want to check out a place I’ve heard about.”_

Yugyeom tries not to smile too hard. “Of course. I’m closing the shop at 10.”

_“Let’s meet in front of the shop then.”_ The typing stops for a moment. _“I’m sorry, I have to get back to work now.”_

“Oh, I didn’t want to interrupt you with anything.” Yugyeom fingers curl around the hem of his sweater. “See you later.”

Jinyoung’s voice is soft. _“Goodbye.”_

Yugyeom lets the phone sink. Jinyoung’s number is still displayed on the phone screen, and he finds himself opening a new contact, copying the number and entering _Jinyoung_ as a contact name.

He’s almost about to save it when he goes back, and adds a smiley face.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

As the clock hits ten minutes before ten, and Yugyeom thinks there will be no more customers coming in, the bell above the door rings and a man enters the shop.

It’s not that there’s anything special about him. He’s wearing jeans, a black winter jacket and has his hands shoved into the pockets, but maybe it’s the hint of a smirk on his face that makes him feel less likeable. Yugyeom’s good with first impressions, which is maybe why he wasn’t as scared of Jinyoung as he should have been upon their first meeting, and he usually trusts his gut feeling, so he just hopes the man will leave on time for him to close the shop.

“Hello, can I help you with anything?” He tries to stay professional, though everything about that man makes him uncomfortable, and he can’t even say why. “Is there anything specific you are looking for?”

The man looks around, taking in the whole shop before looking at Yugyeom. He snorts in what seems to be amusement, and Yugyeom starts feeling self-conscious; is there anything about himself he didn’t notice? Did he spill soup on his clothes at lunch time? Mark would have told him.

“Are you even old enough to be working here?” he asks and Yugyeom presses his lips together. He doesn’t look that young, dammit. He never understood people who make others feel bad on purpose.

He chooses to ignore the comment. “Do you want to buy anything or not?”

The man laughs. “Give me something with chocolate.”

Yugyeom doesn’t care who this is for or if the guy will be satisfied, to put it plainly. He walks around the counter, reaching for the first collection containing chocolate that he can find, and lays it down in front of the man.

“Eighteen thousand,” he says and types it into the system, for once not feeling bad for being a bit rude. He can surely put up with a lot of attitude, but this man just radiates negativity.

He pays and takes the chocolate without another word. As soon as he’s left the shop, Yugyeom takes a relieved breath. He didn’t notice how tense he had just been. Not having any friends comes with the advantage of never having to fight with anyone, and the customers that come here are usually friendly, so he’s not as used to any harsh words as he probably should’ve been.

Considering it’s almost ten by now, he finishes his work and gets his coat out of the back room. When checking his compartment of the cupboard, his gaze is once more drawn to the sheet of paper buried underneath several packages of ramyeon. The flyer is blindingly bright with its orange letters.

He reaches out for it, stuffing it into the pocket of his coat. He’s going to throw it away later.

Before he turns off the lights, he checks his face in the front camera of his phone. Sure, he has slight bags under his eyes from barely getting any sleep, and maybe his lips are a bit chapped, but he surely doesn’t look like a kid, or like something else is wrong with him that would justify such a stare.

Apparently the workers that Yugyeom saw in front of his apartment building this morning have also come by this street without him noticing, because a few of the small trees are covered in fairy lights as Yugyeom steps out of the shop. They’re shining brightly in the dark, not covered by snow; today the weather was decent.

Yugyeom doesn’t really know what to do with himself, so he keeps standing next to the entrance door, playing with the umbrella in his hands, as he waits for Jinyoung to show up.

Without consciously wanting to, he starts thinking about last Friday, when they went out for dinner for the first time. They haven’t really spoken to each other since; that phone call can barely be counted as a conversation in which Jinyoung could have asked him about why he’d spent his birthday like that. It’s something Yugyeom is still afraid Jinyoung will ask him about, though he dares to guess Jinyoung is too considerate to question something that could potentially end in an awkward atmosphere.

Well, after all, if they are really on their way to becoming friends, he will sooner or later figure out there aren’t that many people in Yugyeom’s life, anyways. Yugyeom doesn’t even know why he’s so nervous about Jinyoung realizing that. If they get along well, something like that should not be a reason to cancel a blossoming friendship.

Yugyeom has never felt embarrassed about it. It’s not that he really ever told anyone, but thinking about it himself, it was more of a fact than something that would have caused shame. It’s his own fault in a way for always shutting people out. There’s something different about Jinyoung, though, something that makes him want to work towards becoming friends. He can’t really put it into words. Maybe because Jinyoung was genuinely interested in him, didn’t push him to tell anything, was just okay with what Yugyeom was willing to share.

Even though they don’t know each other well yet, Yugyeom feels like their lives are completely different. Maybe he just doesn’t want Jinyoung to figure out just how different.

He takes a look at his phone. It’s twenty past ten. His fingers feel like they’re frozen as he checks if there are any missed calls or unopened text messages. But his notifications are as empty as ever.

Perhaps Jinyoung decided not to come after all. Yugyeom remembers the stranger’s comment from earlier. Does he really look like a kid? Compared to Jinyoung, he has a pretty uninteresting life. Without really wanting to, he starts questioning why Jinyoung would even want to be friends with him in the first place; there aren’t many people who have made that effort.

But he keeps on waiting. There’s nothing he can do, really. What is twenty minutes becomes thirty minutes and finally forty. He feels like he’s freezing, but he keeps on waiting. He believes Jinyoung will still show up.

When it’s eleven, he doesn’t feel his fingers anymore. He barely manages to look at his phone. The knowledge that Jinyoung must have forgotten their conversation makes his heart feel heavier than it should. But it would not be the first time for him to get stood up.

He should get home. If someone comes by and sees him standing in the cold, they’ll think he’s crazy. Maybe he is. He needs to get home. He knows it, but his feet walk reluctantly, like he expects someone to call out from behind him.

So when he hears his name being called, his first thought is that he imagined it. That is until his ears pick up on the sound of footsteps on the pavement, and he stops walking to turn around, almost not believing his eyes at the image of Jinyoung rushing towards him.

“Yugyeom,” Jinyoung pants as he leans forward, hands on his knees. He sounds like he’s out of breath from running, and Yugyeom just stares at him. The bizarre thought that he died in the cold or is hallucinating passes his thoughts, and he leans down a bit, asking: “Are you okay?”

“Sure.” Jinyoung takes a few quick breaths, standing up straight again and running his hand through his hair, strands falling into his eyes. Yugyeom can’t help but notice how adorable he looks, his nose and cheeks red from the cold. “God, I’m so sorry.”

Yugyeom wants to say it’s okay, but Jinyoung doesn’t even let him start. “I wanted to be on time, but on my way out a really important business partner who held a meeting stopped me to discuss something, and I tried to tell him I don’t have time, but he didn’t get one hint …” He sighs, shoulders still barely moving up and down as he struggles to catch his breath. “And once I was outside, I noticed I had forgotten my phone inside, and when I finally got it the battery was empty.” He shakes his head, finally looking up at Yugyeom. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten you.”

“I’m used to it.”

The words are spoken before Yugyeom can think about the meaning they hold, and Jinyoung looks at him. He freezes in the air for a split second, and then Yugyeom hurries to add: “I mean, don’t feel bad about it. I’m just glad you’re here now.”

Jinyoung pulls back the sleeve of his coat to take a look at his watch. “It’s eleven. How long have you been waiting out here?” Yugyeom thinks about pretending he didn’t stand in the cold for an hour, the thought of why he didn’t even think about going inside the shop while he was waiting suddenly crossing his mind, but Jinyoung’s glance flickers between his blueish tinted lips and hands and Yugyeom imagines worry laying in his gaze.

“Here,” he says and proceeds to take off his gloves. Yugyeom only looks at him, not fast enough to react as Jinyoung wants to hand them over. He almost flinches when Jinyoung reaches out for his right hand, holding it in his as he pulls the glove over Yugyeom’s cold fingers. The black fabric is soft.

“Thank you,” Yugyeom whispers, too perplex to intervene as Jinyoung puts the glove on his left hand too. Jinyoung looks up at him again, gently squeezing his hands once before letting them go, and says: “Let’s go.”

The darkness broken by the trees’ fairy lights may not be enough to conceal his blush, so Yugyeom hopes the cold is enough of a reason. He’s not used to anyone touching him anymore, not even friendly touches like this. Even more than that, though, it surprises him how much he had been craving it without knowing. His hands inside the pockets of his coat ball to fists.

“A colleague told me about that restaurant,” Jinyoung explains. Yugyeom keeps looking at him as they are walking; even though his day seemed to have been stressful, he looks more relaxed today than any of the other days they’ve met each other. He looks almost … content. “Well, it’s not really as much of a restaurant as it is a café. But they have good food and it’s in walking distance.”

He turns his head, meeting Yugyeom’s eyes. “I thought you’d like it better if we wouldn’t have to go by car.”

Something is pulling on the strings of Yugyeom’s heart, and it almost hurts. Not only had Jinyoung remembered he isn’t the biggest fan of cars, no, he had also chosen a place that was close enough for Yugyeom to not having to deal with that problem again. It means more to Yugyeom than he’s probably able to express. He barely manages a small: “Thank you.”

And that’s how easy they get back into it. It’s like they just continue their conversation from Friday. Jinyoung talks about how hungry he is because of the cafeteria food that’s apparently absolutely disgusting, and Yugyeom tells him about his mysterious boss and Bambam’s ghost stories. He even achieves a small tug of the corners of Jinyoung’s lips at that mention, and it feels like he just won a contest.

The café Jinyoung leads them to really is only a few streets away from Cotton Candy. It’s not Yugyeom’s usual route though, so it’s no wonder he’s never seen it. It looks cosy, even from the outside. Lamps are dangling from the ceiling, different plants draped over them that fall down far enough to touch Yugyeom’s head as they walk through the door and sit down on one of the tables.

“Ah, it’s warm in here,” Yugyeom says with a bright smile on his face, taking off his jacket. “Your colleague was right, this place is … really beautiful.”

Jinyoung nods with what seems like a happy glint in his eyes, and points towards the sign above the counter, where a girl with short brown hair is making coffee. “What do you wanna eat? Or drink?”

Yugyeom raises his glance, skimming the menu. “I’ll try the sandwich. And the hot chocolate.” He smiles. “It’s the closest to a chocolate milkshake.”

Jinyoung smiles a bit, getting up after placing his jacket on his chair. When Yugyeom shifts to get up, too, he shakes his head. “Stay here. I’ll get it.”

As Jinyoung’s gone, Yugyeom notices he’s still wearing his gloves. His fingers aren’t as numb anymore as they were a few minutes ago, but for some reason he’s still reluctant about taking them off. He pulls them off his hands and places them on the seat next to him, intending to give them back later.

When Jinyoung comes back, they’re almost the only ones left in the café. There’s a couple next to the window that seems to be in their own little world, and the group of friends that were at the table opposite to them have just left. He places a small tray in front of Yugyeom and then gets his own.

“Thank you,” Yugyeom says happily, looking at Jinyoung’s tray as he sits down. They’ve got the same sandwich, but Jinyoung has a cup of coffee instead of hot chocolate. He smiles into his cup; it doesn’t go unnoticed by Jinyoung.

“Why are you smiling?” he asks as he takes a bite of his sandwich, and Yugyeom points at his coffee.

“I would have bet on coffee if you had asked me what you’d order,” he admits and Jinyoung looks surprised.

“Really? Why?”

Yugyeom shrugs. “It fits you. Wait, let me guess.” He bites on his lip, eyeing the cup suspiciously. “No milk, no sugar, just black?”

Jinyoung reaches for the napkin, barely able to hide a smile. “You’re good at reading people.”

“Maybe,” Yugyeom answers. “In the dramas, business people always drink their coffee black.” At Jinyoung’s glance he almost chokes on his drink. “I mean, it seemed like a cliché. But it’s true for you.”

Jinyoung looks like he’s thinking about it for a moment. “I suppose you’re right,” he then says, the opposite of what Yugyeom would have expected anyone else to say. “A lot of my colleagues drink their coffee black. Do you like coffee?”

Yugyeom shakes his head while chewing. “Not really. I mean, I’ve only tried it once, but I didn’t like it then.”

“Do you wanna try?” Jinyoung asks with raised eyebrows, pushing his cup towards Yugyeom.

With another look for confirmation, Yugyeom picks the cup up and takes a sip. The bitterness spreads on his tongue and he quickly swallows it down. Setting the cup back down, he has to laugh. “Too bitter,” he explains in between laughs.

Jinyoung slightly smiles, almost a bit apologetic. “Black coffee probably isn’t the best way to get you into drinking coffee, is it?”

Yugyeom can only shake his head with a grin. “I’m more of a sugar addict.”

Jinyoung’s gaze rests on his hot chocolate. “I figured. I have to admit, I’ve never really tried hot chocolate.”

The sandwich almost falls out of Yugyeom’s hands. “What?”

“I know, it’s crazy.”

“That’s completely unbelievable. You never tried hot chocolate? How does that work? How did you survive?” Jinyoung’s smile gets bigger; it leaves a proud sensation in Yugyeom’s chest. “Here, try it, before it gets cold.”

He leans forward on the table, observing Jinyoung closely as he brings the cup to his lips and takes a sip of hot chocolate. He holds the cup for a while, delicate fingers wrapping around it, and looks into the air like he’s trying to figure out whether he likes it or not. “It’s … not that bad. It’s pretty good, actually.”

Yugyeom smiles. Somehow, Jinyoung looks precious, looks younger, as he is looking at the cup like he isn’t sure what exactly to make of it.

“Mission accepted,” Yugyeom announces.

“Mission?” Jinyoung places the cup back on Yugyeom’s tray.

“To show you the wonderful world of sugar. Hot chocolate, milkshakes, bubble tea …” He nods reassuringly. “I’m an expert in that way.”

“Should I be scared?” Yugyeom can’t get enough of Jinyoung smiling.

“You should be excited.”

They continue eating, and Yugyeom stares at Jinyoung. It’s not that he actively decided to, it just happens. Ever since Jinyoung caught him on that frozen street in the middle of nowhere, laughing wholeheartedly, Yugyeom’s aware of how handsome Jinyoung really is, and the sleeves he’s pushed up to his elbows don’t make it any better.

“Oh, by the way.” Jinyoung mentions it like it’s something unimportant, but he lays his food down and waits for a second to collect his thoughts, Yugyeom notices. “I wanted to show you something.”

Yugyeom honestly has no idea what Jinyoung is talking about, and so he leans forward curiously as Jinyoung reaches for his phone, unlocks it and seems to look for something before sliding it over the table towards Yugyeom.

“I don’t know if you haven’t already seen it, we posted it on all our social media and the Academy did a big campaign, too.” Yugyeom can feel Jinyoung’s eyes on him. “I thought it might interest you.”

The orange is the same, even on the phone screen. It takes Yugyeom only a second to recognize the flyer; it’s the same one that’s in the pocket of his jacket, waiting to be thrown away. The one about the scholarship for Seoul Dance Academy.

“Interested?” he asks. Of course, he’s read the flyer often enough to have noticed the mention of Jinyoung’s company JSP, but he hadn’t thought he’d actually talk to Jinyoung about it. On one hand, he had tried to ignore the whole matter in itself over the weekend, which didn’t exactly work out considering what he’d done last night in the empty store. On the other hand he hadn’t thought Jinyoung would mention it himself. There would be no reason to if he doesn’t know about Yugyeom’s past.

He can see Jinyoung lowering his glance onto the table, and for a second it looks like there’s something more he wants to say. But the only thing passing his lips is: “Yesterday night I realized why your name sounded so familiar.”

Yugyeom has to think back to how Jinyoung looked like he’d recognized his name from somewhere when he told him. So it wasn’t just his imagination. “Familiar? Why?”

“I work at JSP.” Jinyoung sends him a cautious look; it’s no wonder, considering how much the media has been tearing the company apart recently. “To be exact, I’m the CEO.”

Yugyeom’s confused, until he remembers they’ve never really talked about it. For Jinyoung it must have been clear that Yugyeom knows he’s working for some company, but he’s never mentioned its name. “I know,” Yugyeom says. “I’m not really familiar with the idol business, but I … saw you on the news once.”

Jinyoung nods. “We’re always looking for trainees,” he starts to explain, placing his napkin on his empty plate. “My father is the chairman of the company, and when I was still in university, about three years ago, he began showing me how the work was done. A lot of dance academies and universities in the whole country regularly hand over lists of their students and their grades, as well as personal recommendations. Not everyone who’s talented immediately thinks about applying for training, so it’s a way for us to recognize talent without the students’ initiative.  

And well, I remember that during these months we also had a few evaluations of academy or university students, and one recommendation really stood out. I don’t know why I still remember it, but your name kind of stayed in my head, I suppose. It was your recommendation.”

Yugyeom’s surprised, to say the least. He hadn’t known about any recommendations. Sure, he had heard about older students who had been proposed training at entertainment companies, but as a freshman, he had never even thought about that possibility.

“We wanted to offer you training,” Jinyoung continues. “But I think it never came to that. As far as I can recall it, a few weeks later, your name was crossed off the list.”

Yugyeom nods. It must have been around that time of the year three years ago then. “That makes sense.”

“Did you quit?” Jinyoung asks, no judgement whatsoever in his eyes.

Yugyeom doesn’t really know what to say. He hasn’t talked about this for a long time. It all seems like it’s a lifetime away from everything he’s experiencing now. “Yes. I quit.”

Maybe it’s the way Yugyeom pushes the phone back to Jinyoung’s side of the table, or the way he stares at the rest of his sandwich, or the way he suddenly can’t control the trembling of his bottom lip. Jinyoung must have noticed, because he doesn’t press the issue further.

“If you still like dancing …” There’s a small smile on his lips. “You should try applying. Your instructor was truly praising you back then. You must have a lot of talent.”

“I would …” Yugyeom doesn’t finish his sentence. _Love to_ , he wanted to say. It would be truth and lie at the same time. He takes a deep breath. “Bambam showed me that flyer, too.”

“He must know you well, then.” Jinyoung takes another sip of his coffee, and Yugyeom thinks he can taste the bitterness on his own tongue. “Do you plan on applying?”

That’s a question Yugyeom has yet to answer. It would be a lie to say he hasn’t thought about it. In all honesty, it’s all he has been thinking about for a few days. No matter how much he tried to ignore it, it’s coming back to him; dancing used to be his life, his passion, everything he used to love. Still loves, apparently. But loving something that is connected to so much pain – he doesn’t know if he can do that.

“Do you feel guilty sometimes?” He doesn’t look at Jinyoung, too afraid of what his reaction might be like. “For wanting to do things you used to love, even though a lot has changed since then?”

Jinyoung can in no way know what Yugyeom is talking about exactly, but he still feels like he just presented a part of him he hasn’t shown anyone in a long, long time. He hasn’t chosen to be vulnerable in front of someone since then.

Jinyoung takes his time to answer. “I don’t think so,” he then says. “The things you love change a lot over time. So when you find something you love for eternity, it’s worth holding onto. It’s important to have things that stay the same in a lot of chaos.” A short pause. “I wish I’d have more chances to do the things I used to love, or, still love.”

Yugyeom looks up, hearing the suppressed undertone of his words, almost a bit sad. The corners of Jinyoung’s mouth twitch, and he presses his lips together before looking at Yugyeom. “There’s not a lot in my life that I have control over.”

They really are different. Too different to get along this well, Yugyeom thinks, but maybe in a lot of ways more similar than he might have thought. Jinyoung reminds him of himself, but is still so distinctly different that it’s surprising to him how well he understands him.

He has no idea about Jinyoung’s life. The thought passes Yugyeom’s head all of a sudden, and it’s the truth. Jinyoung looks so organized, so structured in everything he does, like he has it all together, has everything you could have at such an age, hell, he even owns a company. But the suspicion Yugyeom once had about Jinyoung having to bear a lot more weight on his shoulders than you might be able to tell at first glance seems to be true. He wants to tell Jinyoung that he understands him, that he really does, but how could he?

Jinyoung looks out of the window. Yugyeom hadn’t even noticed they’re the only ones left.

“Let’s go?” Jinyoung asks and Yugyeom nods.

They pay and put on their jackets before stepping outside again. While the weather was perfectly fine just an hour ago, the sharp wind now bites through every piece of clothing. Dark clouds hang over the sky, and Yugyeom almost stumbles as a particularly strong wind gust blows over them.

“Here,” he says, holding out Jinyoung’s gloves, but Jinyoung just shakes his head with determination in his eyes.

“Keep them,” he says. “I’m really worried you’ll catch a cold after being out here for an hour earlier.”

Yugyeom feels warmth spreading through his fingertips even before he pulls the gloves over them.

“Do you mind if I walk with you again?” Jinyoung asks. “The walk last time really helped me clear my mind.”

Yugyeom’s surprised, but it’s a pleasant feeling of surprise. He had been a bit concerned whether or not he had been too closed-off with his answer over dinner, but Jinyoung doesn’t seem to mind. “Of course not.”

They start walking, and Yugyeom feels a feeling of contentment in his chest. It always seems to be there when he’s with Jinyoung, especially in moments like those, moments they share in silence, just walking next to each other.

Jinyoung looks up the moment Yugyeom feels a raindrop on his face. “I hope it won’t rain.”

“We have an umbrella,” Yugyeom smiles, holding up his umbrella.

Jinyoung mirrors his expression. “I fear it won’t help us a lot with this wind.”

If Jinyoung regrets sharing his emotions with Yugyeom, he doesn’t let it show. It’s not the first time Yugyeom wonders if he’s the only one that feels like they have some kind of connection, even if that sounds stupid. Normally it’s incredibly complicated for him to open up to other people, but with Jinyoung it’s easier than it should be. And considering how different Jinyoung behaved the first time they met and how he behaves now, the assumption doesn’t seem too out of this world anymore.

“What are your plans for Christmas?” Jinyoung asks when they take a turn left. The streets are just as empty as last week at this late hour. Yugyeom’s glad no one has to witness how nervous he becomes.

“Not much,” he answers truthfully. Crafting lies out of thin air is neither something he wants to do nor something he feels capable of doing. “I don’t care that much about Christmas.”

Well, that’s at least not a complete lie. He loves Christmas, absolutely loved it since he was a child, but as so many other things, it’s connected to a lot of memories. It’s a pity, in a way – he loves fairy lights, loves decorations and buying presents. He has to think about how happy he was when he put up the Christmas decoration in the shop. Maybe even Jinyoung recalls that, after all, he saw him doing it, or he remembers the text message on Yugyeom’s phone and the immediate implication of him spending his birthday all by himself.

Either way, Jinyoung says nothing; he seems to be in deep thought about something.

Yugyeom’s trying hard to think of something to say that would make it look like he has at least any plans for Christmas, but the rain interrupts him. While the single raindrop on his cheek was just a foretaste of the storm about to come, it’s now raining like the sky is trying to flood the ground.

Yugyeom hurries to open the umbrella as thick raindrops start to fall, but Jinyoung was right: It’s no use in the wind. Both weather phenomena combined, the rain gains force, soaking their clothes. Yugyeom tries to open the umbrella once more, and Jinyoung reaches out and helps him, but even with combined force the umbrella doesn’t stay open.

Though it’s a strange situation, Yugyeom has to laugh. In the span of just five minutes and the walk down one street, the weather decided to change like this, and he can barely see anything, much less speak, so he just points down the road and Jinyoung nods.

They run, trying not to trip in the puddles like they did last time, but at least the ground isn’t frozen. Yugyeom hadn’t thought it would be warm enough for it to rain instead of snow, but apparently he’s proven otherwise.

Jinyoung’s only a blurred figure next to him as they turn right and then left again, shielding their faces with arms and hands while Yugyeom tries not to drop the umbrella. The wind is loud and Jinyoung almost misses the door of Yugyeom’s apartment building; Yugyeom reaches out and tugs on the sleeve of his coat, pulling him inside the entrance hall after he’s unlocked the door.

As the door falls closed behind them, the deafening sound of the rainstorm outside is muted a bit, and Yugyeom only now notices that the water is running down his back and has long soaked all of his clothes. It doesn’t seem to be any different for Jinyoung; his coat is dripping water, forming a little puddle beneath him, and his wet hair is sticking to his forehead.

“Well, that didn’t work out,” he murmurs as he tries to wring out his coat, but it’s no use. “Are you okay?” He looks at Yugyeom, probably takes in his completely soaked clothes. “You should change quickly, or you’ll get sick.”

“You, too.” Yugyeom can’t hinder the smile that’s spreading on his lips. “I bet we look like wet puppies.”

Now Jinyoung has to laugh, too. “Probably.” He leans forward, looking outside through the window on the door. “But I think I have to wait here for a few minutes until the rain gets better.”

“You can come upstairs.” Yugyeom realizes he’s never shown anyone his apartment, but now is not the time to be self-conscious. “How long do you need to get home?”

“About twenty minutes to my car and then half an hour of driving.” Jinyoung is still trying to get the water out of his clothes and Yugyeom can only look at him; it’s adorable, how he is wringing the coat like it will help.

“It won’t dry,” he says. “You can put on some of my clothes.”

Yugyeom’s apartment is one of many in an old house that seems to be built entirely out of wood. It’s strange; Yugyeom has never seen anything like this anywhere else in Seoul. The stairs creek beneath their feet as Yugyeom leads the way to his front door. Even the walls are made of wood, dark wood that has enough little scratches and scars to show it’s been used a lot. When they stop in front of the door, Yugyeom notices Jinyoung’s looking around in interest, like it’s a first time for him, too.

“I’ve never been in such a building,” he explains as he catches Yugyeom looking at him. “But it feels warm. The atmosphere.”

Yugyeom’s happy Jinyoung notices it; it’s the same thought he had when he moved her one year ago. Before that, he’d lived in a Goshiwon for two years, so an apartment with a separate kitchen, bedroom and bathroom had really been an upgrade. It’s still small, but he tries to make the best of it, and though it deems to him that it isn’t want Jinyoung’s probably used to, he somehow hopes he will still like it.

He unlocks the door and steps inside, immediately taking off his coat and shoes, putting both in a corner over the heater so the water won’t be too much of a hassle to clean up later and they’ll actually have the chance to dry. His pants and sweater are wet, too, but at least not dripping.

Jinyoung looks around as he does the same, taking in the kitchen table, the kitchen itself and … Lollipop.

“Oh,” he exclaims a bit surprised when Lollipop rushes out of the bedroom and rubs her head against Yugyeom’s legs, before retreating a bit, apparently not used to the feeling of wet jeans. “Is that Lollipop?”

Yugyeom nods with a big smile, reaching down to pick her up. Today seems to be one of her good days, because she actually lets him pick her up without complaining or immediately jumping out of his arms again. He runs his fingers through her fur and looks at Jinyoung with a smile as Jinyoung closes the front door and lays down his coat on top of Yugyeom’s.

“She’s adorable.” The smile on Jinyoung’s face is natural as he comes closer and carefully reaches out, touching her. “Hey, Lollipop. I’m Jinyoung.”

Yugyeom feels warm, like someone has ignited a soft flame inside his chest. He tries to tell Lollipop through attempts of telepathy not to reject Jinyoung; he doesn’t really know how she reacts to strangers as there is never anyone else in his apartment. His hand brushes against Jinyoung’s and Jinyoung looks up.

“Do you wanna hold her?” Yugyeom asks and gives Lollipop a kiss on the ear.

It’s the first time ever that Yugyeom sees Jinyoung being unsure. “I can try.”

Lollipop loves Jinyoung. It looks like it’s love at first glance, from the way she rubs her head on his chest to how she meows in contentment as he runs his fingers through her fur. She doesn’t seem to care that Jinyoung’s cold and still soaked in rainwater, and the feeling is mutual. Yugyeom really, really wants to say something, or do something, but he can’t tear his eyes from the soft smile that’s decorating Jinyoung’s face.

It’s only the worry about Jinyoung catching a cold that makes him move. The heater is on, but the building is so old that it doesn’t get as hot as in modern apartments. Usually, it’s fine, but now that his clothes are wet, Yugyeom is shivering and he doesn’t think Jinyoung feels any different.

“Um, do you wanna change?” he asks, leaning against the bedroom door, and Jinyoung looks up.

“If it’s okay for you to lend me clothes?” he answers and kneels down to set Lollipop onto the floor. She promptly follows him as he walks towards Yugyeom.

“Of course.” Yugyeom’s glad he did his laundry on the weekend. He opens his closet and asks: “Colour?”

“Colour?” Jinyoung furrows his eyebrows, watching Yugyeom from the doorway.

“Of the sweater.” Yugyeom has to laugh. “I have sweaters in every colour of the rainbow, basically. Well, the yellow one might not be a good idea, though.” He looks down himself; his poor yellow sweater needs to dry and then live through another laundry day.

Jinyoung’s quick with an answer. “Pick me one.”

To be honest, Yugyeom doesn’t think there is a single colour that doesn’t look good on Jinyoung, even though he has only seen him in white shirts and dark blue suits so far. Something makes him want to pick the opposite though; and so he reaches for the red sweater without a second thought.

“Here.” He hands the sweater and a pair of black sweatpants to Jinyoung, getting another pair of clothes out for himself. “Is that okay?”

Jinyoung looks up. “Sure. I like red.” He furrows his eyebrows. “You’re seriously good at reading people.”

“They wear a lot of red in the dramas.” Yugyeom laughs. “Just kidding. I’ll be in the bathroom, changing.”

The bathroom is just a little square room, big enough for a shower, toilet and wash basin to fit inside, but almost too small for Yugyeom to change when the door is closed. He struggles to get the jeans off his legs; they’re sticking to his skin, and he has to sit down on the closed toilet seat to undress. At least the freshly washed clothes feel soft on his skin. They smell like flowers, and Yugyeom successfully manages to not hit his head on a wall as he pulls the sweater over his head.

He’s sure he’s spent an eternity in this bathroom, or it at least feels like it, so when he opens the bathroom door he surely expects Jinyoung to be dressed already. He’s most certainly not prepared for the sight of a shirtless Jinyoung in the middle of his bedroom.

He wants to cough or clear his throat, but he’s frozen in the doorway for a moment. In the light of his bedside lamp, Jinyoung’s tanned skin shines golden. He reaches for the sweater and Yugyeom can see the fine, delicate lines of his shoulder blades beneath his skin, the mark of his spine in the center of his back, the contours of his waistline like a drawing by pen.

He’s always admired the beauty in people, the little smiles and strands of hair and soft touches, but it’s the first time it makes his skin tingle. The bathroom door falls closed behind him and Jinyoung turns around, the sweater falling over his skin and hiding it like a treasure.

“Sorry,” Yugyeom manages to say, noticing absentmindedly that his breath is short like it’s been taken away.

“Don’t worry,” Jinyoung says, seemingly unaffected. Yugyeom wishes he would have just an ounce of his confidence. “Thank you for the clothes. They fit well.”

They definitely do. Jinyoung looks like a different person in casual clothes. The red makes his eyes shine, no matter how hard Yugyeom tries not to notice. He takes a step forward and takes a towel out of the closet, giving it to Jinyoung. “Here, for you hair.”

Yugyeom makes tea while Jinyoung looks around, voicing compliments for his apartment from time to time. There’s not much to see in his apartment, really. Apart from the bathroom, the bedroom consists of a bed, a small table, closet, dresser and a small TV, and in the kitchen there’s nothing special either, only a dining table, a small kitchen and … Lollipop. Who’s again all over Jinyoung before she finally decides it’s time to eat, and retreats into her corner of the kitchen.

Jinyoung stops in front of the dresser and Yugyeom’s already wondering what he is looking at so intently, until Jinyoung takes a step back and Yugyeom can see the pictures. They’re framed, placed next to the TV. It’s the only two photos that he has in his apartment. On some days, it hurts to look at them, while on others, he needs them like he’s holding on to dear life by memorizing their faces.

“Is that your family?” Jinyoung asks. He must be looking at the left picture; it’s a photo of Yugyeom with his parents. He was eighteen back then. It’s the day of his graduation, and his mother is standing on his left side, his father on his right. They’re smiling, all three of them, and he’s holding an enormous bunch of flowers.

“Yeah,” Yugyeom answers, pouring the hot water into the cups and putting the teabags into them.

“Why aren’t you spending Christmas with them?” Jinyoung asks, adding: “Do they live too far away?”

Yugyeom stares at the cups of tea. “Way too far.”

Jinyoung doesn’t say anything else, and as Yugyeom turns around, he notices Jinyoung’s already looking at the second picture. It’s from his first semester in university, him and his dance group after a small competition they participated in with a group performance. Jaebum’s got his arm around him, and they’re both laughing because Jaebum had just made a terrible joke.

Yugyeom leaves the kitchen and goes into the bedroom to stand next to Jinyoung. He feels like this is weirdly private, more private than framed photos should normally be. They bear more importance to him than they probably should.

“That’s from university,” he explains before Jinyoung gets to ask. “That was my dance team.”

Jinyoung has his eyebrows furrowed, like he’s fixed his glance on something, and he raises his hand to point at something on the photograph. “He looks oddly fami-“

Lollipop has creeped up on them and is suddenly walking around Jinyoung’s feet, and he’s so surprised he flinches; his hand touches the frame and it’s a loud noise as it falls forward. Yugyeom and Jinyoung reach out for it at the same time, and their hands touch as they catch it in the air.

“I’m sorry,” Jinyoung says, breathless for a second, and Yugyeom feels like the atmosphere is tenser than he’d wanted it to be. He shakes his head and forces himself to smile.

“Don’t worry, nothing happened.” He places it on the dresser again. “It’s an old picture anyways.”

It’s the last picture he has with the people he used to spend every day with.

“The tea’s ready,” he says and is almost about to go into the kitchen as he feels fingers around his wrist. They’re gone as soon as Yugyeom realises Jinyoung reached out for him, but they leave a warm feeling on his skin.

“You shouldn’t feel guilty about doing what you love,” Jinyoung says. He looks serious. Yugyeom doesn’t know how Jinyoung figured out those are the words Yugyeom has waited so long for someone to say, but he says them without a doubt in his voice. “If I had a talent like yours, I’d try it.”

Yugyeom wants to say that Jinyoung probably has a million talents more than him, but he’s afraid his voice will break. The room feels so dark suddenly, like the light only falls onto Jinyoung. Yugyeom reaches for the hem of his sweater, like he always does when his fingers are trembling. “Thank you.”

It’s all he’s able to say. He places the cups of tea on the kitchen table in front of them and tries to resist the urge to go and get sugar. Tea tastes like hot water on his tongue.

“Do you like tea?” Jinyoung asks. His voice sounds soft, like he’s trying to pick the right words. Yugyeom can only hope he didn’t notice how much memories those photographs brought up inside of him. He hadn’t thought he’d ever share them with anyone; now Jinyoung’s the first one who saw them.

But it all makes sense; the Jinyoung he first met was Jinyoung, dressed in a suit and a frown between his eyes and the taping of his fingers against the countertop. The Jinyoung he met when it snowed was Jinyoung, laughing and asking him about his job and catching him when he fell. And the Jinyoung he met today is also Jinyoung, wearing a red fluffy sweater and remembering he doesn’t like car rides and giving him his gloves and encouraging him to do what he loves to do.

Everything of that is a part of him, and it’s the first time Yugyeom gets to know someone like this. And he catches himself wanting to know more about Jinyoung, about this Jinyoung and about the million other parts of his personality he hasn’t seen yet.

“I hate tea.” He cannot help but laugh. The man he found intimidating at first glance is sitting at his kitchen table with messy hair. Life is strange sometimes. “I absolutely hate tea.”

“Me too,” Jinyoung laughs, and it’s like slipping on ice once again. “There’s nothing worse than tea.”

And so Yugyeom gets the sugar and they both pour an insane amount of sugar into their cups, though Jinyoung keeps on repeating he doesn’t like sweet things, but that it’s the only way to get this tea to taste halfway decent, and Yugyeom almost spills his tea while laughing.

“Yugyeom,” Jinyoung says as they’re finally sipping their tea, and Yugyeom’s name rolls off his tongue like honey. “Do you want to spend Christmas with my friends and me?”

Yugyeom has to look so surprised that Jinyoung immediately continues explaining.

“We will throw a small Christmas party this year, just some of my closest friends and me.” He stirs his tea with a spoon. “Nothing spectacular, just hanging out and eating dinner.”

Yugyeom feels his heart tighten. The prospect of not being alone on Christmas is alluring. No, he corrects himself, it’s more the prospect of being with Jinyoung. He doesn’t know how Jinyoung does it, but everything seems so much easier when he’s around. Being with him on Christmas … Yugyeom doesn’t want to put too much hope into it, but maybe, just maybe, it would be less painful than the last three years.

“Will I not … disturb you?” Yugyeom’s surprised by how easily he takes the option of saying yes into account, contemplates on actually saying yes. He’s usually the first one to say no to any social gatherings. He’s just too awkward, too bad with small talk, too closed-off. But the prospect of Jinyoung being there makes everything else meaningless. It’s not like he wants to depend on Jinyoung’s presence, but … he wants to get to know him. Being with him is so effortless – like something you look for without searching. He won’t let that go to waste by saying no.

Jinyoung smiles. “It’s in my apartment, so I am the host. I get to decide who I invite. And you surely won’t disturb. Some friends of mine bring their partners, and they don’t all know each other either.”

And it’s not the first time Yugyeom thinks that, but Jinyoung’s smile is like a sun. He lights up the room and Yugyeom’s heart and Yugyeom … Yugyeom could sit here forever, drinking tea with way too much sugar.

“Thank you … for asking me. I’ll think about it.”

When Jinyoung gets into his car late at night, the coat still damp but at least not dripping anymore as it spent an hour lying on the heater, he has to smile at his own outfit as he reaches into the jacket of his coat to get his car keys. But instead of metal, his fingers touch something warm and sticky. Confused, he pulls them out, only to notice his fingertips are coated in chocolate.

He gets the keys and his wallet out of the pocket. The keys are relatively clean, but the wallet is sticky with chocolate. It only takes a few seconds for him to identify the cause – in the very back of his wallet, a piece of wrapped chocolate has melted, because of the heater probably.

As he tries to clean up with tissues, he notices it’s the same kind of individually wrapped chocolate like the one that was in the paper bag when he first bought something at Cotton Candy. Back then, he had thought it had been an accident, but candy inside of his wallet can barely be an accident. He didn’t put it there himself, did he?

He remembers the day he forgot his wallet and Yugyeom came running after him, cheeks red from the cold and eyes big, not only giving him his wallet but also the money he had paid too much the previous time. Did he …?

Jinyoung lets himself fall back into the seat.

And if there’s a soft smile on his face, there’s no one to see it except for the stars in the night sky.

At the same time, a distance apart and buried under the covers, there’s someone who can’t stop thinking about Jinyoung, no matter how hard he tries; and the only witness is a cat that he holds in his arms as he remembers warm hands around his.


	5. Mole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies!
> 
> I'm very happy about being able to show you this chapter today, and proud that I managed to write most of it in one setting. We're having some real realizations today and where love is, heartbreak might not be too far ... See for yourself, and I really hope you enjoy this chapter! <3
> 
> Love,  
> Aki
> 
> PS: I wrote pineapple as ananas and didn't notice until I edited. Ananas is in no way English, is it? Help.

 It’s on Thursday morning that Yugyeom finds an invitation letter for Jinyoung’s Christmas party in his mailbox.

 

“Are you … okay?” Jackson looks very unsure of Yugyeom’s sanity or his mental state in general, and Yugyeom can’t blame him.

 

He’s trying his hardest not to look like a nervous bundle of nerves, but that’s nearly impossible when he is shifting from left to right on the couch, feet tapping on the floor, shoving the letter from one hand to the other and back while he has to look like he has been forced to drink a kettle of tea a minute ago. He’s one huge atom of nervousness and Jackson, the good soul, doesn’t seem to judge.

 

“Did you get a set date for your execution or is it the monthly bill?” he asks with a serious tone and Yugyeom hands him the letter.

 

Jackson leans against the edge of the table and skims it. The paper is thick and expensive, and even the printed letters look like they have been printed with an extra expensive printer and Yugyeom’s just so _stressed._

 

“Neither your execution nor your financial crisis …” Jackson furrows his eyebrows and holds up the letter. “It’s an invitation, Yugyeom.”

 

“I know it’s an invitation!” Yugyeom’s not good at a lot of things, but he can read, very fast and very clearly, excuse you. “But, like, did you read it?”

 

“Clearly I just spent half a minute burning a hole through the paper. Of course I read it.” Jackson rolls his eyes. “It’s an invitation for a Christmas party. Why are you like this over an invitation?”

 

“It’s not just a normal invitation!” Yugyeom’s voice is an octave higher than normal, dammit. “It’s … it’s …”

 

“An invitation from …” Jackson glances down. “Park Jinyoung?”

 

Yugyeom rubs his palms on his knees. “Well.”

 

“That name sounds oddly familiar.” Jackson looks at it once more and appears to be in deep thought. Of course, up to this moment, neither him nor Mark or Bambam even knew Yugyeom was friends with Jinyoung. They’ve never seen them together and Yugyeom’s not one to talk about himself without being asked, so he just kind of let the opportunities pass, afraid they would not believe him.

 

Except Jackson does. He suddenly blinks, and laughs: “Isn’t he the CEO of JSP Entertainment? Woah, how did you meet him? You two must be good friends for him to invite you. Didn’t know you had such good contacts.” He smiles and raises his eyebrows, impressed.

 

“Ah, we just met in the shop and somehow became friends over the last month.” Yugyeom can’t really explain why they get along so well, either. It feels like his mind is trying to play tricks on him, but the warmth around his hands that he remembers clearly is no lie and no imagination. “He’s a really nice person.”

 

“Then, why are you so stressed about it?” Jackson asks and hands the letter back to Yugyeom. Even the feeling of the thick paper between his fingers stresses Yugyeom out, so he quickly lays it down next to him.

 

“I’m not stressed because it’s Jinyoung.” That’s the truth. “I like being around him. But … but it’s a big party with a lot of other people I don’t know and it’s all formal and – did you feel the paper? It’s so expensive! What am I supposed to wear to a party to which the invitations are this expensive already!” Yugyeom stumbles over his words with how fast he’s talking. “I mean, he sent out letters! I would have just sent a text, but I also would have worn jeans and a sweater to a party, so I definitely shouldn’t wear jeans and a sweater to his party-”

 

“I feel like this is the most I’ve ever heard you say at once.” Jackson chuckles and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Do you have a suit?”

 

Yugyeom looks up, interrupted in his rambling. “What?”

 

“Do you have a suit? Black, blue, I don’t care. White button-up. Tie would maybe be a bit too much.”

 

Yugyeom feels his fingertips starting to tingle. He’s got one suit, which he wore only once in his life, and which he intended never to wear again. Would it be inappropriate to wear it for the party? Normally, he wouldn’t, but it’s Thursday and the party is tomorrow night.

 

“I guess,” Yugyeom answers, trying not to think about the fact his response implies he might really have to wear that suit again. Even the thought gives him stomach ache, makes him the same kind of dizzy he felt when he danced, alone in the shop at night.

 

“Problem solved.” Jackson makes it look so easy. “Wear a suit, get a gift, don’t be late and let that guy, Jinyoung, introduce you to everyone else.”

 

Yugyeom slowly nods. Jackson’s right, well, he always is. Jackson knows a lot of things, and he gives the best advice. He manages to see rationally what Yugyeom sees too emotionally. A party is nothing to be this stressed about.

 

Then why does his heart race so fast and beat so loudly at the sole thought of going there and meeting Jinyoung?

 

Somehow he has tried not to think too hard about that whole Christmas party thing lurking in the back of his head ever since Jinyoung mentioned it two days ago. Christmas is emotionally overwhelming each year, but this years seems to top the last two. Neither does Yugyeom possess the social skills nor the manners to attend such an event, but he’s willing to try, for Jinyoung. Because Jinyoung seemed like he really wanted to see him there and he doesn’t want to disappoint Jinyoung; and maybe he also wants to meet Jinyoung, see him, talk to him.

 

The thought of Christmas passing, so many people talking to Jinyoung, everyone except for him, makes him feel strange, like someone is taking something away from him. Jinyoung makes him feel a whole lot of things, Yugyeom thinks, but for once it’s no emotion he’s afraid of.

 

It’s like Jinyoung takes everything Yugyeom felt before meeting him, intensifies it and ties it to the most random of tasks. When he thinks of Jinyoung while trying to sleep, there’s this loneliness creeping up that even Lollipop can’t chase away. When he thinks of Jinyoung while something is making him happy, he feels even happier, like the sole thought of sharing that experience makes it even more worthy of a smile.

 

“Hey, don’t worry too much about it,” Jackson says and sends him a soft smile like silk. “You’re friends, he wouldn’t have invited you if he didn’t want you there with him.”

 

“Thank you,” Yugyeom says, and he means it.

 

When he thinks of Jinyoung while he misses him, he misses him even more.

 

_____________

 

Lollipop and Yugyeom have to be soulmates, because she’s no less than equally as nervous as Yugyeom.

 

“I know, I know.” Yugyeom turns around to look at her. She’s sitting on the floor, looking like the highly offended cat she sometimes is. It feels like she’s the adult and Yugyeom’s her child, and oh boy, did he disappoint her. “I know it’s crazy to attach so many memories to a piece of fabric.”

 

She meows and walks over to jump onto the bed, right next to the black suit that’s laying there on the mattress. It was so dusty Yugyeom needed some time to make it look halfway presentable. Back then, he originally wanted to throw it away, but ended up keeping it because it cost a lot and he realized from then on, he would have to be even more careful with money. Still, it spent the last three years in the back of his closet.

 

Lollipop tilts her head like she’s trying to ask him what’s his problem.

 

“You know what day tomorrow is,” Yugyeom says quietly. “It’s not just Christmas.”

 

He’s sure Lollipop understands his words, because she reaches the edge of the bed and looks at him, and he extends his arms, picks her up and brings her up to his chest. She rubs her cheek against the collar of his sweater and he has to smile.

 

“It’s probably a good thing I won’t spent the day in bed, isn’t it? I’m gonna give everyone their Christmas cards at work, get ready, visit them and then go to Jinyoung’s place.”

 

Lollipop turns her head and looks at the suit once again and Yugyeom nods.

 

“Okay, and I’m going to wear that.” He doesn’t want to think about it, but the thought doesn’t ask. “It’s that day, after all. Even if only we know it.” He runs his hands through Lollipop’s fur and smiles. “It’ll be okay. Maybe I should take you with me, Jinyoung really seemed to have fallen in love with you last time, what do you think? You little loveable thing.”

 

Lollipop stays at home (buried in a blanket and laying on the bed like she owns the house), but Yugyeom promises her to tell Jinyoung best greetings and that he should come over another time soon (because maybe she’s also fallen a bit in love with him).

 

His phones chimes when he’s on his way to work the next day. It’s still so early that it’s completely dark outside, and the fairylights in the trees in front of his apartment complex light the streets. The smell of frost and a silent night lies in the air and Yugyeom digs for his phone in his pocket, juggling two bags in his hands.

 

In one, he’s carrying his suit, because if he wants to be in time for the party, he won’t be able to go home to change after his shift. In the other, he’s packed a box with different little Christmas biscuits and cookies he baked yesterday night after contemplating what else to give Jinyoung other than a book he bought after work. He feels like Jinyoung will enjoy it; it’s a story about a boy supposed to work at his parents’ gas station but deciding he wants more of his life and funding a successful company.

 

When he read the description again last night, he had to think of what Jinyoung told him: How he barely has the time to do the things he loves. He wonders if Jinyoung would’ve preferred doing something else than taking over his father’s company, too.

 

_I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight!_ the text reads and Yugyeom’s heartbeat misses a beat before returning back to normal. Jinyoung’s really a social butterfly, isn’t he? Yugyeom wouldn’t even know how to make such a normal statement sound so positive.

 

He skims their chat over the past days. They’ve talked a few times in between work and in the evening, and if someone asked Yugyeom beforehand what their chat would look like, he surely wouldn’t have answered anything close to what it really looks like. Jinyoung’s like a piece of silk fabric wrapped in wire. He texts paragraphs and paragraphs, always asking what and how Yugyeom’s doing and telling him about random things. When he takes longer to answer, which is almost always the case, he apologizes each time even though Yugyeom tells him not to.

 

It’s adorable.

 

Something Yugyeom wondered about a lot when he was younger is if something like destiny exists. It never seemed like that to him, but meeting Jinyoung somehow has him questioning his beliefs. He worries about whether or not he’s become too attached to being his friend too quickly, but when they text each other after work and laugh about random things, he feels reassured he’s not the only one who thinks they have built such a special connection in such a short time.

 

_Me too_ , he texts back.

 

Even though it’s Christmas, Mark, Jackson and Bambam are all three in the shop today. You would think people know better than buying Christmas presents on the last day, but the sales assistant experience tells Yugyeom otherwise. There is an overwhelming amount of couples entering the shop who are apparently feverishly looking for presents for their parents and parents in law and Yugyeom has to suppress a smile whenever he hears Bambam laugh in the back room after having had to talk to a particularly stressed couple.

 

“What are you doing tonight?” Bambam asks all of them when they have a quiet moment inbetween customers and are preparing to close the shop over the Christmas holidays.

 

“Ah, we’re spending the day together,” Mark says and looks over at Jackson with a smile.

 

Jackson nods, propping his chin on his palms as he leans onto the counter top. “Yeah, we’re both seeing our families tomorrow so we’re probably just going to order some pizza.”

 

“With pineapple,” Mark says with a serious face.

 

“Without pineapple,” Jackson answers immediately without looking at Mark.

 

Bambam stretches and sits down on the counter, legs dangling in the air. “I don’t care about pineapple, I just want pizza.” With a sideglance to Mark and Jackson he adds: “Don’t worry, I won’t disturb your date.”

 

“It’s not a –“ Mark starts but Bambam shushes him.

 

“Don’t disappoint Jackson,” he calmly tells him and Jackson turns away, blush evident on his face as he reaches for one of the lists in the drawer and announces: “I should probably go check the rest of the delivered boxes. To see if we need to inform the delivery that we need restock immediately after the holidays.”

 

He almost runs to the back of the shop, though he clearly tries to make it look like he’s walking very slowly, and Bambam smirks in Yugyeom’s direction.

 

“Bambam, did you really have to—“ Mark doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because the bell above the door rings and Mark’s the one closest to the customer entering the shop, so he rolls his eyes in Yugyeom’s direction and greets the woman with a chirpy: “Hello, how can I help you?”

 

“Oblivious.” Bambam shakes his head and leans over the counter. “Completely oblivious.”

 

Yugyeom smiles. He’s noticed Mark and Jackson always do a lot of things together outside of work, but had always tried not to think of it that way without having any confirmation it wasn’t his sole imagination. If Bambam thinks the same, however, chances are high he’s more right about it than he had thought.

 

“Oh, and now _we_ gotta talk.” Bambam is dangerously close to falling off the counter, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Jackson told me you’re invited to a really high-class Christmas party tonight. I mean, you’ve been looking really stressed yesterday, so I might have just kind of bothered him until he told me.” He grins.

 

Yugyeom nods. “Well, it’s a bit nerve-wrecking,” he explains. “I might have a suit but I most certainly don’t have the manners that are probably expected of me. I might make a complete fool out of myself.”

 

“Ah, I don’t think so,” Bambam reassures him. “It’s a party, so just watch what everyone else does and do the same.”

 

“Did Jackson tell you whose party it is?”

 

Bambam shakes his head. “No, but … wait, is it someone famous?” His eyes sparkle with excitement.

 

Yugyeom runs his fingers through his hair anxiously. “I’m glad it’s me who can tell you. Also, I want to say sorry in advance for not telling you earlier but I didn’t know if we would even become friends and if we did, I didn’t want him to think it’s just because he owns a company—“

 

“A CEO?” Bambam’s eyes go wide. “Oh come on, spill the tea before I die of curiosity.”

 

Yugyeom sends him an unbelieving look and Bambam sighs.

 

“It might be Park Jinyoung.”

 

“Might—“ Bambam’s grin drops. “Park Jinyoung? As in Park Jinyoung, CEO of JSP Entertainment?”

 

Yugyeom doesn’t know where to look. “Eventually.”

 

Bambam throws himself forward and falls off the counter. He’s gone from Yugyeom’s sight for a second or two, then he jumps up from the floor and smashes his hands down on the countertop. “Park Jinyoung?!”

 

The woman Mark is talking to turns around with a confused look and Mark moves his hand across his throat behind her back, signalling Bambam to shut up.

 

Bambam doesn’t even notice. “Park Jin—?!”

 

“Shh.” Yugyeom leans closer so that maybe Bambam will stop screaming like a maniac. “Yeah, Park Jinyoung from JSP. I’m sorry for not telling you immediately.”

 

“Telling me immediately?” Bambam asks with confusion. “Am I your stalker or what?”

 

“Well, you might, you tell me.” Yugyeom smiles. “But you’re definitely the biggest fan of the new girlgroup before they’ve even debuted.”

 

“Casper?” Bambam asks happily. “Oh, they’re so talented! And pretty! But what’s that to do with you being invited to Park Jinyoung’s party?”

 

“Jinyoung and me became friends over the last month and … I thought about telling you, but I didn’t know if it wouldn’t seem ridiculous. We literally just kept meeting each other coincidentally, and it doesn’t even make sense he invited me. Now I just feel bad that I didn’t tell you because I was afraid. You’re such a big fan of all their groups.” Yugyeom feels uncomfortable; he fears Bambam will laugh and not even believe him, even though he knows for sure Bambam would never do that.

 

“Doesn’t make sense?” Bambam furrows his eyebrows. “To me it doesn’t make sense why you’re even questioning that. You’re a good friend, why wouldn’t he invite you? And why would I think you’re lying?”

 

“The letter was printed on paper that’s more expensive than every single piece of clothing I’m wearing. Together.” Yugyeom shrugs, trying to explain himself. “I’m just having a hard time being friends with someone in general, and even to myself it seems unbelievable I’m such good friends with someone like Jinyoung.”

 

“Just because his paper’s expensive doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate someone sweet and honest.” Bambam winks. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind. If I end up meeting him, I’ll _totally_ bombard him with questions about Casper, but I for sure won’t be camping in front of his apartment complex just because I might know him better now.” He laughs and Yugyeom does, too. “So when you see him, tell him he’s got a fan, but don’t you dare feel bad for not telling me earlier. I should be the one feeling bad.”

 

“You?” Yugyeom asks. “Why?”

 

Bambam smiles. “We’re friends, but we don’t really do a lot except chat here when our shifts overlap. I’ve never really dared to ask you to go get dinner together or something like that. You’re always working so much and immediately go home afterwards, and rarely talk a lot about your weekends. I thought it was because you just really didn’t have the time or energy to meet up, but damn, you sure lack some confidence in your friendship skills, and we gotta change that.”

 

Yugyeom’s eyes go wide. “No, no, I’d love to meet up, I just – Well, I always thought you wanted us to just stay collegues.”

 

“That would be some hardcore wasted friendship potential.” Bambam laughs. “I’m glad we’re finally having this conversation, then. Let’s go get some pizza after the holidays.” He throws an angry glance at Mark over his shoulder. “Someone didn’t invite me because they want to have some intimate alone time with their _friend._ Friend, my ass.”

 

“Your ass what?” Mark comes back and leans against the counter next to Bambam. “We really don’t need any bedtime stories, Bam.”

 

“Excuse me, my bedtime stories are highly requested. If I’d actually have any to tell.” Bambam sighs. “We were talking about New Years. Oh, yeah, New Years! Yugyeom!” Yugyeom looks up. “Do you want to celebrate New Years with us? The boss left a note on the fridge that he’s thinking about hosting a little party in the shop with free candy and stuff as a promotion.”

 

“Really?” Mark smiles brightly. “That’s amazing! I don’t have anything planned for New Years yet anyways.”

 

Bambam leans closer to Yugyeom. “Jackson won’t like that.”

 

“Bambam, what—“

 

“Nothing, Mark, nothing.”

 

“I’d love to.” Yugyeom looks between the two and smiles. “Chocolate seems like the best way to start into the new year.”

 

“Oh, don’t they do chocolate pizza nowadays?” Bambam asks excitedly. “Delivery services, I mean. It’s a trend. We could try doing something similar. Everyone likes pizza.”

 

“That’s digusting, Bam,” Mark comments.

 

“You like pineapple on pizza, Mark, I really don’t think you should have a saying in what tastes good and what doesn’t.” Bambam throws it right back at him and doesn’t wait for any further confirmation. “Okay, it’s a plan. And I expect some normal pizza with you, Yugyeom!” He grins as he stands up and turns around, walking towards the back of the shop. “Oh, and …,” he then adds, turning around while walking, and winks, “I’ve thought about it. Leave me his address on a little slip of paper, yeah? The camping doesn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore.”

 

When his shift is over, Yugyeom puts the Christmas wishes cards he’s written into the bags and jacket pockets of Mark, Jackson and Bambam. He hopes they’ll find them and smile; he tried to write something warm and happy. It’s the same way they made him feel today, especially Bambam. He hadn’t expected both of them expecting the exactly wrong thing of the other. He likes Bambam. They could end up becoming really good friends. The thought makes him happy.

 

For once, he’s the one who leaves the earliest. He changes his clothes in the staff room, putting the white button-up and the suit on and trying not to become too nervous immediately. It’s  four p.m., and the party starts at six. He can do this.

 

“Are you going to the party now?” Bambam asks when Yugyeom’s on his way outside and Yugyeom shakes his head.

 

“No, I …” He smiles. “I have to go see someone else before.”

__________

 

 

The sun is setting behind the horizon, and it’s pulling colourful strings of yellow, orange, pink and violet over the sky and clouds. It looks like a pattern woven by skillful hands.

 

Yugyeom’s own hands are trembling a bit. His right hand is carrying the bag with the present, his left hand is closed around the piece of paper, but this time not the invitation, but the one that caused him so much headache ever since his eyes first fell onto it.

 

It’s the application form for the dance scholarship, and he’s written his personal information onto it with a blue ballpoint pen. He doesn’t really know what got into him last night, but he looked at the framed photos on his dresser and had to think of the way Jinyoung told him he should do what he loves.

 

He leans forward and pushes the envelope into the mail box before he questions his decision. He’s been standing in the same spot for a few minutes anyways. The thought of telling Jinyoung about it and him approving of Yugyeom’s decision makes it easier to let go of the letter. It tumbles down into the box without a sound.

 

Jinyoung’s living in an expensive area. Yugyeom had expected no less, but it still impresses him to see all the big mansions placed next to each other with enough distance to allow a spacious garden inbetween facades made out of glass and metal fences.

 

Yugyeom has no car, and the bus only took him to the very beginning of this part of town, so he has been walking for a while when he finally spots the house number he’s been looking for. It’s a fourteen in golden letters, and he has to lay his head back to take in the whole dimension of Jinyoung’s home. The wind is ruffling through his hair and pushing the strands into his eyes.

 

Somehow Jinyoung’s house has something about it that immediately reminds Yugyeom of Jinyoung. It can’t be his car, because Yugyeom can’t see it in the driveway, but the garden is well looked after, and the walls seem to consist more of glass than of anything else. Yugyeom can see a figure in the first floor walking around, and the silhouette tells him it’s Jinyoung.

 

He walks up towards the entrance door, looking around interestedly. There are little solar lamps placed in between the plants, and the light above the door turns on when he rings the bell.

 

It’s only a few seconds until he hears footsteps coming down the stairs and the door is pulled open. Jinyoung’s standing in the doorway, and Yugyeom forgets about the house, the light and his own nervousness the moment he looks at him.

 

“Hey,” Jinyoung smiles brightly and Yugyeom can barely get a word out. He’s seen Jinyoung in a suit countless times before, of course, but he looks different today, without a tie and with the first few buttons of his shirt open. Or maybe it’s just his blinding smile that makes Yugyeom’s chest hurt a bit.

 

“Hey,” Yugyeom responds. “Am I … too early?” He knows it’s not six yet, because he calculated too much time to find Jinyoung’s house in order not to be too late, but he also didn’t want to wait in front of it for another half an hour.

 

Jinyoung shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. Come in.” He steps aside and closes the door behind Yugyeom as Yugyeom kneels down to take off his shoes and put on slippers. “Did you find your way here easily?”

 

“The letters spelling fourteen helped me enourmously,” Yugyeom says with a grin and Jinyoung laughs.

 

“This way,” he says and Yugyeom follows him.

 

From the inside, Jinyoung’s house is a mix of white marble, glass and dark wood. It’s beautiful. The rooms seem geometric, and everything is sparkling clean. Yugyeom feels a bit like he’s in a museum, or some kind of futuristic spaceship. On the walls, big frames with artworks are hung up, some signed photographs of groups Yugyeom supposes are part of JSP, rarely any family pics. None, to be exact.

 

“You’re the first guest, but … welcome to the party.” Jinyoung laughs and it sounds like glass beads in the wind.

 

“Who’s coming?” Yugyeom asks, pushing his nervousness down the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t feel as dizzy anymore now that he’s talking to Jinyoung. His sole presence makes him calm down. He follows Jinyoung into the room that has to be the dining room, or living room, since there is no wall to separate the table and the couch. There’s a Christmas tree in the corner of the room, with white lights and red decoration.

 

Jinyoung leans against the edge of the dining table. Behind him, there are bowls with covered food. “My best friend and his partner, some mutual friends, some collegues from the company and their partners. About … 20 people?”

 

Yugyeom nods. He can handle twenty people. He’s looking at Jinyoung, and his stomach gives him a break, makes the trembling of his hands go away. Since he got off the bus, he felt that stone laying inside of his chest that made it hard to breathe, and the thought of the party only made it worse, but just looking at Jinyoung makes it all go away. He doesn’t care what others will think, Yugyeom decides, so he’ll stay by Jinyoung’s side tonight.

 

“You look amazing.” Yugyeom’s eyes dart up towards Jinyoung’s face to confirm he has understood his words right, but Jinyoung looks sincere. “Especially with the suit, I mean. I’ve never seen you wear one.”

 

“It’s the only one I own,” Yugyeom responds with a small smile. “It was the same for me when I saw you in a sweater.” Except Jinyoung always looks this handsome. He can wear what he wants to wear, and nothing will change that fact.

 

“Oh, your sweater,” Jinyoung seems to remember and points in the direction of the ceiling. “It’s upstairs. I’ve washed it and I can give it to you later.”

 

“Thank you,” Yugyeom says and awkwardly shifts the bag in his hands from left to right. He somehow wishes there wouldn’t be any more people turning up. This feels alright, just Jinyoung and him. He doesn’t need anyone else to feel okay.

 

“Should I put that somewhere for you?” Jinyoung asks with a glance at the bag and Yugyeom looks up, quickly shaking his head.

 

“Oh, no, it’s actually a gift. A gift for you.” He holds out his hands, letting the bag dangle from his fingertips. “I wasn’t sure what to get you, so it’s a combination of two things I’m positive you’ll enjoy.”

 

Jinyoung’s eyes light up almost unnoticeably, but Yugyeom does notice. How can he not, when he is looking at Jinyoung so intently.

 

“That’s … really sweet of you,” Jinyoung says and takes the bag. He puts it down on the table and Yugyeom walks up next to him as he opens it.

 

“You said you didn’t like chocolate and candy, but that cake and cookies are fine, so I hope you’ll enjoy them,” Yugyeom explains as Jinyoung takes out the box with little Christmas cookies and holds it in his hands.

 

“Did you … make them yourself?” Jinyoung looks at him incredulously, before going back to eyeing the cookies like they’re precious jewelry.

 

“I might not be the best cook, but I can bake.” Yugyeom smiles, fumbling with his hands, trying not to show how much he wishes for Jinyoung to like the presents. “After the hot chocolate incident, I thought I could be brave enough to bake something sweet.”

 

Jinyoung’s still staring at them, and Yugyeom almost starts to worry, until he puts them back in the bag and reaches for the book; Yugyeom can see the corner of his mouth being pulled higher, a quiet smile and wrinkles around his eyes.

 

“And a book?” Jinyoung asks with a sparkle in his eyes and Yugyeom nods. “Do the business men in dramas read a lot of books?”

 

Yugyeom’s taken aback by the question and wants to start an explanation, but Jinyoung’s smile intensifies. “I’m just asking because you seem to know more about me than I’ve ever told you.”

 

“It’s just … intuition.” The excited feeling in his stomach is back and it’s almost painful, looking at Jinyoung smiling so brightly. Meeting him, he would have never guessed Jinyoung could even smile this much, but he’s doing it right now, because of Yugyeom. “Do you like reading?”

 

“I love it.” Jinyoung skims the back of the book before putting it back. “And this seems really interesting, too.”

 

Yugyeom releases a held breath. “You won’t believe how happy I am to hear this.”

 

“Thank you.” Jinyoung’s smiling, and turning towards Yugyeom. He wears his hair a bit different today, so that more of his forehead shows, and his eyes shine even brighter in the light of the Christmas tree. There’s nothing that’s not perfect about him, Yugyeom thinks. He’s the first person he’s met that’s just perfect.

 

Yugyeom wants to answer, but Jinyoung’s eyes suddenly turn excited, and he asks: “Would you maybe like to take a little tour around the house?”

 

The house is huge. Yugyeom thinks he’s never been in a house this big. It all fits, the style, architecture, furniture, interior. The house is as perfect as Jinyoung, even though it lacks emotion in the points Jinyoung conveys emotion. Jinyoung’s words are soft and his eyes smiling as he walks through the hallways, opening doors and explaining that it was a friend of his that built this house.

 

“I already thought it fits you really well,” Yugyeom says and wonders how the carpet in one of the study rooms can be so soft it swallows every noise. “The house, I mean.”

 

“Why? Because I seem like a person who can’t decide which study room to work in?” Jinyoung’s laugh is back and Yugyeom’s staring again.

 

“I’ve actually stopped counting the study rooms four hallways ago.” By now it’s dark outside. The lights in the garden shine in through the windows. “I think it’s because everything fits so well. There is no corner or angle that doesn’t make sense. Even the things that seem strange, like that one staircase, serve a purpose when you look at them more closely.”

 

Jinyoung stops and turns around slowly. “Are you saying that everything about me makes sense?”

 

Yugyeom feels like he has said something too personal, but he doesn’t mind sharing this. “Yeah. It does. It doesn’t with everyone. There are a lot of people I don’t understand. Actually, understanding someone is the exception.” He watches Jinyoung close the door behind them as they get into the hallway again. “Understanding you is easier.”

 

Jinyoung smiles. He’s smiling more today than any other day. Yugyeom wonders why. “It’s nice to hear someone understands me. I often don’t understand myself. Does that make sense?”

 

“I think so.” Yugyeom follows him down the hallway. They’re on the first floor now, and the door Jinyoung’s stopping in front of is huge. “What’s this room?”

 

Jinyoung’s hand rests on the doorhandle. “It’s actually why I thought of showing you around. It’s my favorite room in the whole house.”

 

He opens the door and steps inside. Yugyeom does the same and is met with the sight of what must be at least a thousand books.

 

They’re everywhere. There are bookshelves covering every wall, leaving only small spaces for the windows. They’re filled with books in every shape, size and color. The air smells like old and freshly printed books, and in the middle of the room there are a red couch and two armchairs in front of a small fireplace. The floor is covered with carpet and colored like blood in contrast to the wood white like snow. The darkest thing in the room is the piano placed in a corner.

 

“A library,” Yugyeom says, eyes wide, looking at the different books in awe.

 

“I spend most of my time in here. At least most of the little free time I have.” Jinyoung walks up to Yugyeom, watching him with a smile. “I read a lot when I was younger. Now I try to fit in a book every few weeks.”

 

“I love it.” Yugyeom knows why Jinyoung likes this room. It feels like home instantly, even though it’s the first time he’s entered it. The world outside could wither and this room would still exist, that’s what it feels like.

 

“Really?” The happiness is evident in Jinyoung’s voice.

 

Yugyeom nods. “There are so many lives inside of here. You can just take one and become a different person. And then exist forever in that person.”

 

“That’s such a precious way to think of it.” Yugyeom turns around; Jinyoung’s voice has taken a sad undertone. “It’s a life on a few pages of paper.”

 

“Do you write?” Yugyeom asks, because he thinks it would fit. From what he knows about Jinyoung, he can almost guess the answer. That’s what he meant by understanding. It’s so easy with Jinyoung. Everything’s so easy with Jinyoung.

 

“I used to.” Jinyoung looks up, his smile a bit sad. “A lot, when I was younger. I wanted to become a writer. But it’s nothing you can make a living off, or at least, that’s what my parents said. Even something like an editor wasn’t enough. I had to take over the company. So that’s what I did.”

 

Yugyeom can feel the longing in every book his glance wanders over. It’s evident in Jinyoung’s voice. He wonders if that’s what he sounds like when he talks about dancing.

 

On one of the shelves, there are a few framed phots. It’s the first personal thing Yugyeom sees in this house, except for the books. Even the bedrooms and study rooms looked void of any personal attachments.

 

Yugyeom looks at them. Jinyoung’s in most of the pictures, always looking serious, even when everyone else is smiling. It’s a quick sting in his heart that he tries to suppress.

 

There’s one with his collegues, or at least Yugyeom guesses they are his collegues. Everyone is wearing a suit and someone is holding up a contract. On another one, there’s Jinyoung and a smaller boy with a wide smile and brown hair, and at least the frown is gone. There are some other ones with friends and one with Jinyoung’s parents, Yugyeom supposes. The man looks familiar, grey hair, sharp features. Probably he’s seen him on the news, too.

 

On the last one, there’s Jinyoung and a girl with short black hair. Jinyoung doesn’t look different, wearing the same serious face as in all the other pictures. It’s probably another friend.

 

“Who’s that?” Yugyeom still asks, out of a feeling.

 

“Oh, that’s Myung Hee,” Jinyoung says and apparently wants to say more, until he turns around and his eyes land on the piano Yugyeom’s already looking at. “Oh, the piano. It doesn’t look like it fits in here, does it?”

 

Yugyeom walks closer, taking in the appearance of the dark wood and the white keys. On the first glance, it might seem out of place, but as his fingers touch the keys gently, he thinks that it’s perfect in here. “No,” he answers with a smile. “It’s the right place for it.”

 

“Can you play?” Jinyoung asks and sits down, playing the highest tone. It revibrates in the air and tumbles down Yugyeom’s spine.

 

“I used to.” Jinyoung points at the space next to him and Yugyeom sits down, hesitantly, but the urge is there. “I took lessons when I was younger. My father … plays the piano.”

 

“Do you want to play? Or do you mind if I do?” Jinyoung asks and Yugyeom shakes his head.

 

“I think I kind of forgot how to,” he says with a smile. “But please go ahead.”

 

Jinyoung smiles, the sadness gone from his features. It reassures Yugyeom. Seeing Jinyoung unhappy is a specific kind of feeling that makes his chest ache with the wish to see him smile again. It’s not really something he could put into words. But then, he’s never been good with words. Jinyoung could maybe put it into words, if he knew how Yugyeom felt.

 

Jinyoung lays his fingers on the keys and starts to play. His moves are gentle, soft, like he’s healing something and not playing a song. It takes Yugyeom a few seconds to register he knows the song. It’s one his dad played a lot when he was a child. It’s a known melody he seems to have forgotten about, and Jinyoung brings it back with slow touches and unspoken words.

 

Yugyeom closes his eyes. The darkness lets him hear it better. He remembers that he used to dance to this song, a long, long time ago. It’s kind of ironic that Jinyoung is playing that song right now, today, out of all days.

 

Yugyeom’s fingers in his lap are aching with the want to play. It’s been years since he last did it. It’s not like dancing. It’s not something he can’t live without, but something he always enjoyed so deeply. Jinyoung’s giving it back to him.

 

He opens his eyes and looks at Jinyoung. He’s playing effortlessly, fingers moving on the keys like they’re dancing. His eyes are closed, and so Yugyeom closes his eyes, too, and joins him in playing.

 

The wood is cold underneath his fingers, but their tunes fit like the song was written for them to play together. Jinyoung’s notes don’t falter, not even as their hands brush, once and twice and again.

 

The song brings back a lot of things, but it’s not just the song. It’s also Jinyoung sitting next to him, and playing, and the lights that are falling in from the windows, and the fact he put that application form in the mail box and the suit he is wearing.

 

It’s Jinyoung’s pinky that brushes against his as he reaches for a key, and that stays there for a second, for another key or just because Yugyeom stays, too, and he can’t play anymore. His other hand falls into his lap and he opens his eyes and the world is blurry.

 

The music stops.

 

“Yugyeom?” Jinyoung asks, voice laced with worry, and Yugyeom’s blinking while staring at his hands. “Are you …?”

 

He reaches up and wipes his hands over his eyes, tears leaving wet traces behind. Trying to control his breathing, he holds his breath, balling his hands to fists.

 

Fingers touch his cheek and he turns his head with the motion, Jinyoung’s palm against his skin, as soft as he just touched the piano’s keys. His other hand joins until he’s holding Yugyeom’s face in his hands. His features are blurred through the tears until Yugyeom blinks and they clear.

 

“Yugyeom.” Jinyoung says his name and looks at him. “Are you okay?”

 

There is a mole on Jinyoung’s lip. Yugyeom wonders why he didn’t notice until now, when all he ever does is stare at Jinyoung. He’s too beautiful not to stare at him, in the sunlight, in the moonlight, in the light coming from outside right now. His hands are so warm and Yugyeom feels like his whole body is catching on fire.

 

There is a mole on Jinyoung’s lip. All he can suddenly think about is kissing that mole.

 

He looks up, in Jinyoung’s eyes, looking at him full of worry while the room is silent and dark. He’s holding Yugyeom’s face as gently as he’s playing piano or holding a book or his hand, thumbs stroking over his cheeks. Everything about Jinyoung is so gentle, so soft, that Yugyeom wants to lean against him and stay there.

 

With Jinyoung, everything is so easy.

 

That’s when he knows it.

 

He’s falling in—

 

Downstairs, a door falls shut and the noise is so loud both of them flinch. Jinyoung’s hands disappear from Yugyeom’s skin, though he still looks at him full of worry.

 

“Jinyoung?” A voice calls out and Jinyoung opens his mouth like he wants to answer, but closes it again. He’s still looking at Yugyeom and Yugyeom can’t bring himself to move.

 

The footsteps start to come up the stairs, and the spell breaks. Bringing his hands up to his eyes, Yugyeom finally wipes all the tears off, hoping his eyes aren’t too red to notice.

 

The steps come closer, along the hallway, and Jinyoung still doesn’t budge. Only when the door opens, the light is turned on and a female voice calls out: “Jinyoung?”, he answers.

 

“Yeah,” he says, eyes fixated on Yugyeom. “I’m here.”

 

Yugyeom notices someone entering the room from the corner of his eye and he turns around, apparently also awakening Jinyoung, because he hurries to stand up and walk towards the door. It’s a woman their age, short black hair and delicate features, who’s standing in the doorway with questioning eyes.

 

“I thought so.” She’s the woman from the photo, Yugyeom realizes. “Why haven’t you turned on the lights downstairs?”

 

“I was showing Yugyeom around,” Jinyoung explains and Yugyeom’s heart flutters at the mention of his name out of Jinyoung’s mouth.

 

“Who’s …” She looks past Jinyoung and sees Yugyeom. “Oh. Hello.”

 

“Hello.” Yugyeom hopes his voice sounds normal. Jinyoung’s face is unreadable. Yugyeom sadly notices he’s back to the same expression he had on all the photos. Is it because he cried, or is it because of her?

 

“Nice to meet you.” She steps inside the room and walks up to the piano, Jinyoung following her. She’s wearing a black dress and is almost as tall as Jinyoung in heels. “Yugyeom?”

 

“Kim Yugyeom,” Yugyeom introduces himself and stands up hurriedly to bow. “Nice to meet you, too.”

 

He hides his hands behind his back because they’re still trembling. If Jinyoung notices, he doesn’t say anything.

 

“Yugyeom’s a friend of mine,” Jinyoung explains and Yugyeom feels something strange in his chest, pressing against his ribcage; he’s felt it before when Jinyoung or anyone else called them friends, but now it’s almost painful.

 

He forces a smile on his face, for Jinyoung, who’s looking at him. He doesn’t know if there’s any more worry in his eyes. Jinyoung’s put on his frown again, and every magic that was just there seems to be gone. Except Yugyeom’s heart is still beating like crazy, and his hands are sweating, and his cheeks feel warm and his skin is tickling where Jinyoung touched him.

 

Yugyeom looks at him. He looks at him all the time, but now, he looks at the mole on his lip, and wants to kiss it.

 

He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to do anything so badly.

 

He’s falling in—

 

“That’s Myung Hee,” Jinyoung introduces her and lays an arm around her waist. “My girlfriend.”

 

\--love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Hit me up on social media ~  
>  Instagram: @akiko_chaan  
>  Twitter: @Akiko_chaan  
>  Tumblr: @akiko-chaan  
>  Wattpad: @Akiko-chaan


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